The Snake Shakes
by Eliza B
Summary: After a shocking incident involving muggles at Hogwarts, the students are sent to muggle boarding schools for a few weeks to learn more "tolerance" and "understanding". But when Hermione Granger is paired with Draco Malfoy, effectively cut off from the re
1. Brewings of A Storm

§ **_Chapter 1: Brewings of a Storm _**§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

**...§...**

Albus Dumbledore got to his feet slowly in front of his uncharacteristically quiet audience. Their apprehensive faces followed his eyes as they swept around the Great Hall, seemingly appraising each of one of his students as he tugged on his beard. Some eyes, including many of those at the Slytherin table, remained downcast; some met his gaze with trepidation, others with pure fear. However restrained they were in meeting the gaze of their headmaster, their eyes could not keep from darting to the pale, lifeless forms lying on the cold marble floor in front of them.

Albus's gaze had finished sweeping the hall and had come to rest on the crumpled bodies of the unconscious, bloodied Muggles lying in front of him: an old man with a heavy handlebar moustache and glasses askance, his wife's pink bonnet blood-stained and hanging off her neck. Little had they known that their innocent Sunday afternoon stroll through the Scottish countryside would have resulted in such horror and destruction.

He found himself so appalled that such young people, and to top it all his students, could inflict such horrors. Albus had always thought Hogwarts would be a safe haven for these young people in the face of dark times ahead, and never thought that he'd see the day when the Dark Lord's influence would be emanating from inside the walls. Quelling the shudders that had been building up inside him he realised how wrong he had been. His students looked up at him as they waited for him to begin: the compassionate Hufflepuffs filled with sympathy for the innocents before them, the shrewd Ravenclaws stunned as they realised the deeper implications of what was surrounding them, the brave Gryffindor filled with righteous anger, and …the Slytherins. A mixture of fear and defiance; shame and pride. Their furtive glances towards each other and scared, defiant faces confirmed that what Dumbledore was most afraid of was beginning.

The houses were turning against each other and, along with them for sure, their families and the rest of the wizarding World. Voldemort's opposition was crumbling to pieces by its own hand, just as he had intended all along. The old man vowed not to let this incident divide them. Tom Riddle was clever, but Albus Dumbledore was cleverer.

**...§...**

Hermione ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower, ignoring Ron's feeble attempts to divert her attention, and flung herself on her bed, a sob escaping from her lips just as the door slammed behind her. The image of those poor Muggles burned into her eyes as she slammed her fist down on the pillow.

She could not believe what Hogwarts had been reduced to. Hogwarts - Albus Dumbledore's stronghold, Harry's haven from the Dursleys, the one place in the wizarding world where Hermione felt she had always truly belonged. Hermione had never imagined that the influence of dark magic would truly infiltrate its walls, and that if it had, it would come from the top –from Voldemort himself. The direct and honest Gryffindor inside her would have imagined the greatest terror and threat to the school would be Voldemort in person, but as her world crashed around her, the sinister realisation came to her that the evil's infiltration began with the lowest ranks of Voldemort's chain of command, and would escalate until all was within his grasp.

She pounded her fist on the bed again in a sudden fit of rage. How could this have happened? How could mere students, one day happily going to and fro to their classes, suddenly turn into servants of the Dark Lord? No matter that the Muggles were not dead but merely stunned, no matter that it had only been a few students – the whole school and the whole wizarding world was reeling from the shock. Something had to be done right away before the shock was numbed and this sort of event became the norm. But what?

A knock sounded at the door and Hermione tensed. Knowing she couldn't hold them off any longer she hastily wiped the tears from her face and squeaked "Come in". Ron's anxious face poked around the door and he stepped in, followed by an impassive-looking Harry.

"Hi."

"Hi," she returned weakly.

After a slight pause, Ron made his way over to the bed and sat at the end of it awkwardly. Harry just stood in the doorway blankly staring out the window. The silence stretched on for a while as each remained lost in their private thoughts.

"I guess you didn't see the notice board then," Ron said morosely. Hermione looked at him confusedly –

"What, just now? Why?"

"Well Dumbledore certainly isn't wasting any time: he said we needed to act fast and….well."

Hermione was still confused, and, as that seemed to be the only explanation Ron had to offer, she turned towards Harry.

"What does it say? Is it punishment? For everyone or just for the dirty rotten…" She stopped, fists clenched tightly, unable to continue.

Harry finally turned his head away from the window, eyes far away still. "We're leaving tomorrow," he said as if from a great distance. "Everybody. divided up into Muggle boarding schools for a month."

Hermione sat on her bed, mouth agape at this astonishing new turn of events. Still digesting what this meant, she heard Ron whine -

"But I don't understand why! Why not just send those Slytherin gits away and leave us all in peace?"

"To send them away would be to alienate them, Ron," Hermione replied quickly, her voice a little stronger now. "Dumbledore wants to remind us that we are all in this together, and that the greatest form of punishment is to live with the guilt of what we have done."

"What? You've lost me Hermione," Ron said, expelling a sigh as he flopped backwards and lay on the bed gazing up at the ceiling.

"Don't you understand? It's all about tolerance. The wizarding world needs to understand that Muggles are humans just like them, and not what they've accepted blindly from birth, that they are inferior," she said with a sniff as she once again quelled the tears threatening to start from behind her eyelids.

Ron looked at her open-mouthed and then laughed shortly. "Trust the old man to do what Voldemort would never expect."

Harry looked up, fire burning in his eyes.

"Exactly."

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Don't worry - it's not this sombre the whole way through! Please review!


	2. Dreams of Draco

§ **_Chapter 2: Dreams of Draco _**§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

_DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling. Blates..._

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Rivulets of rain ran down the stained glass windows of Gryffindor tower, the grey sky outside casting a dull light to the girls' dormitory where Hermione was currently wrestling with her suitcase. Like most girls, she wasn't terribly good at packing light, but unlike most girls, Hermione's suitcase was bursting to the brim with books. Despite having used three Engorgio charms and numerous rolls of spellotape, she couldn't quite get it zipped up all the way and so, sighing to herself, she started to lug it down the stairs. Harry and Ron were just emerging dishevelled from their dormitory opposite.

"Are you sure you've got enough reading material there, Hermione?" said Harry with a wry smile. Ron was a little more vocal – "Bloody hell! We're only going for a month, Hermione!" She ignored them and continued down the stairs with a small smile playing across her lips.

"Anyway, won't Madame Pince get angry when she finds out you ran off with the whole library in your suitcase?" Ron's voice boomed down from above her. "She'll set Filch on you and then you'll be sorry!" Harry sniggered as Ron continued on in this vein all the way down to the great hall – "You'll wake up in the night at our Muggle school to hear his stinky old feet tramping outside your door calling 'Hermioneeeeeee, give me your librareeeeeeee!!' "

"Wow, talking feet. I didn't know Filch was so talented!" Harry said with a straight face. Ron erupted into a fit of most unmanly giggles just as they entered through the grand double doors to walk smack straight into Professor McGonagall, looking rather ferocious with a large green clipboard in hand.

"Just a moment there, Mr Weasley! Mr Potter! Now, if you could please deposit your bags in the entrance hall and then be seated at your house tables. I will be coming around shortly as you eat to tell you which school you have been assigned, and who your partners are. Ahh…Miss Patil, no, you cannot take five suitcases! No, I don't care that they're small!" She hurried off into the entrance hall leaving the three together.

"Partners?" Ron said in bewilderment as they walked towards the Gryffindor table. "I thought we would be in big groups!"

Harry looked thoughtful. "It's probably to make it look less obvious. I guess it would be pretty strange if a whole load of students parachuted in to a school, and none of them knew what a TV or mobile phone was."

"Parachute? TV? Mobile phone? What are you talking about, Harry? It's YOU the Muggles are going to think is strange!" said Ron, as he plonked himself down in front of a large plate of waffles. Hermione and Harry smirked at each other across the table. "What?!" Ron cried, shovelling food into his mouth.

"You'll see," said Harry with a grin. "Wonder who we'll get as partners. Hope I get one of you two."

"Mmmph" said Ron, swallowing. "Imagine how bad it would be if you got, I dunno, Malfoy or someone!"

Hermione snickered and glanced automatically towards the Slytherin table. Malfoy, bright blonde hair clearly visible, was sitting with Crabbe, Goyle and Nott, heads bent together. They were no doubt scheming something duplicitous. Even after last night's spectacle it seemed that the Slytherins didn't have the grace to look ashamed. Hermione's eyes roamed down the table and saw that, although there were some troubled faces, most remained unashamedly brazen and upbeat. Disgusting.

Ron meanwhile was discussing the hypothetical Malfoy – Harry pairing. "I don't think even McGonagall would go that far. She knows how explosive that situation would be - you'd blow the cover of the whole wizarding world duelling in the middle of chemistry or something!" They both laughed and Hermione's attention was drawn back to their table.

"Oooh, look here's McGonagall."

The professor bustled over looking harassed. "Right, Miss Granger, first on the list. Let me see…you are to be placed at Longdon Manor School in Hertfordshire. Now, I need to know four subjects that you would be able to study confidently in the Muggle world, although I'm sure that won't be a problem with you." She permitted Hermione a brief smile and held out a list towards her. Hermione's eyes danced with excitement as she saw all the choices and weighed up her options.

"Oooh, I don't know. Can I take five, or maybe six? I'd like to do Physics and Chemistry, oh and, and Maths, of course. Oh look, French, yes that as well, and…"

"Unfortunately, four is the maximum number of subjects I can permit, Miss Granger, " McGonagall said firmly. "You see, the school also requires all sixth formers to participate in physical education and that counts as a fifth option. There is no time for others, as Muggles obviously do not possess certain, ahem, helpful timetabling devices that wizards might. Hypothetically that is."

Ron and Harry coughed loudly and Hermione distinctly heard the word "TIMETURNER", but the smirks on their faces were quickly wiped off as McGonagall sent them a furious glare.

"Mr Weasley, if you would be so kind as to give me your full attention. Now, your school is Ladmonton Boys' school in Essex. Mr Potter, yours too." They both groaned loudly at the mention of the words "Boys' school".

"You mean… no girls?! That is so unfair!" Ron complained loudly, only to be silenced once again by McGonagall's glare as she loudly declaimed that this was an "_integration study trip_" and "_not just a jaunt for picking up women!"_

"Not just? Well at least it's included then!" said Harry with a wide grin on his face as he high-fived Ron. McGonagall's glare turned even icier and they suppressed their snorts as they chose to do English, Art, and D.T. - the easiest subjects Ron could manage without Muggle knowledge – and as the comedy wildcard, History. "But I know nothing about the Muggle present, let alone its history! I might start talking about goblin rebellions or something!" moaned Ron.

"Well, you'll have to learn then, Mr Weasley, won't you? It will do you good to be alert in class for once!" McGonagall retorted, and started to stalk off towards the next group of students.

"Wait, Professor!" called Hermione. "We don't know our partners yet!"

"Well, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are together as I have already said." Ron and Harry started to high-five each other again energetically. "Oh – sorry Miss Granger – yes…" She ran her finger down the long list of parchment. "Ah – you are with Mr Malfoy. Good luck," she said drily.

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**Please read and review! It really makes my day...yes, I know!**


	3. Pure Preparation

§ **_Chapter 3: Pure Preparation _**§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

_DISCLAIMER: It's all JKR's...but we know that._

**...§...**

Hermione sat, stunned.

Her worst nightmare had come true. Malfoy, the smarmy git that had bullied them since their arrival at Hogwarts; Malfoy, who boasted constantly about his money and "pure" blood; Malfoy, the embodiment of everything that Hermione hated about the wizarding world. How was she going to survive four whole weeks of him?

"arggggggghhh!!"

"What, Hermione? What is it?" Harry and Ron broke off their energetic high-fiving contest, rather alarmed by their friend's outburst of rage. "What's the matter?"

"That! That! is what's the matter!" She screamed angrily, jabbing her finger towards the Slytherin table. Harry and Ron looked rather bemused.

"What?" they said in unison.

"Malfoy! I've got Malfoy! For Four. Whole. Weeks." She groaned and buried her face in her hands. There was a moment of silence as Harry and Ron absorbed this piece of information.

"Err…well. crap. That's rotten luck, Hermione!" Ron said dubiously. They didn't quite know what to say, so Harry awkwardly patted her on the back, knowing they were both thinking the same thing – "_glad it's not me_!" Ron, being the less tactful of two, then proceeded to voice this opinion out loud, spraying the top of Hermione's head with bits of waffle in the process. Harry tried to rescue the precarious position Ron had put them in –

"But look on the bright side, Hermione! He's a boy, so you won't have to share a dorm with him!"

"Yeah…" she sighed. Hermione brought her head out from behind her hands, her eyes resigned to her fate.

"And, knowing Malfoy, he'll be doing namby-pamby subjects where he can prance around half naked or something, so you won't be in his classes!" Ron spat scornfully - as scornfully as you can whilst simultaneously cramming two sausages and an egg in your mouth.

Hermione was cheered a little as she tried, and failed, to picture Malfoy's slim, willowy body on the rugby pitch in the midst of beefy Upper Sixth Muggles. She giggled a little hysterically and the boys relaxed. They noticed Professor Dumbledore making his way towards the front of the hall and hurriedly tried to cram the last of the waffles in their mouths before the house elves magicked them away.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and began speaking to the hall of sixth-years.

"My students." He spread his hands warmly towards them in an open gesture. "Yesterday was a black mark on the history of our school." He paused for effect and looked round the hall. "I know that some among you are surprised at what you think is a certain…lack of punishment."

"However, you will be leaving us for a month to live with Muggle students at very much the same juncture in their lives as you. As you come to know and love these people" – Hermione heard several quiet snorts from the Slytherin table – "the true enlightenment will begin. This is far more important than punishment in any form."

"Needless to say, you will be representing your school at all times." Several students gave each other quizzical looks. "Yes, for although your new peers may be oblivious to your magical talents – and they will remain so, for use of magic will be banned - members of the staff, and also of the ministry, will be checking in on you from time to time to make sure things are running smoothly."

Dumbledore seemingly looked each and every student in the eye as he said sternly – "Go forth with open minds and hearts. Good luck." His hands fingered the timepiece hanging around his neck and the students watched him stride abruptly out of the hall as Professor McGonagall bustled up to the front trailing a long piece of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will proceed to the Entrance Hall to collect your bags. A member of staff will then escort you to your new schools by sidelong apparition. Abbott, Hannah and Nott, Theodore…"

Ron clapped Harry on the back and raised his eyebrows at Hermione. "I guess this is goodbye then! Owl us when you're sick of 'it'. I mean, him."

Hermione smiled weakly. "I don't think owls will be allowed Ron. But I can call you, I'm sure there's a payphone."

"Err, right," Ron said looking at Harry worriedly. Harry smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"You'll be alright with me Ron. Centuries of prized Dursley knowledge in here," he said, tapping his temple. Ron grinned as Hermione heard Professor McGonagall call – "Potter, Harry – Weasley, Ronald." They got up and walked down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw table, turning round to give Hermione sympathetic grimaces as they went.

Hermione looked around the hall and saw that only a few students remained. Feeling a certain pair of eyes on her, she turned round to the Slytherin table to see Malfoy giving her a look of what could only be described as pure loathing. She quickly turned back to her plate, face flushed with anger. What had she done deserve this? Did the professors really think that absolutely anything positive would come out of this? Coming from a family like that, Malfoy was never going to change his ways. Was he?

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**Please review :)**


	4. Overheard Conversations

**§ _Chapter 4: Overheard Conversations _§**

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

_DISCLAIMER: not mine! not mine! not mine! well, mine, but...not!_

**...§...**

Hermione's eyes swept round the entrance hall, carefully looking everywhere but at Malfoy. Two lone suitcases stood in the middle of the room, but no teachers were anywhere to be seen. Leaning against the cold stone wall, Hermione sighed and hoped that one of the staff would return soon; anything to make sure she wasn't alone for long with this miserable excuse for a wizard. She was aware of his stiff form standing near the open doors into the ground, just far away so that polite conversation was impossible. Not that polite conversation and Malfoy were two concepts that ever went together.

The castle was quiet, the rest of the school being in their first lesson. The only sound audible in the empty hall was the sound of her own breathing and the pitter-patter of the rain outside coming through the open doors. Outside, the sky was grey and oppressive, the continuous cloud cover lending to the day a depressing feeling of being trapped underneath it all. Hermione sank down to the ground and sat on the cold marble floor, knees up to her chest, allowing the soft sound of the raindrops to lull her into a sleepy trance.

The silence stretched on as the two students waited: Draco's tall form remained unreadable as he continued staring into the sky and Hermione wondered what he was thinking. Surely he knew that this would be difficult for him – with no Muggle knowledge he would surely stick out like a sore thumb. Was he scared? Or did he just not care?

"….the impropriety of the situation. At times like this, Dumbledore, the school needs to maintain an organised, calm front to the wizarding world, and sending away students on some crackpot scheme, consorting with Muggles, is not going to reflect very favourably on the establishment!" A cold clipped voice echoed angrily down the grand staircase from the corridors above, sending shivers of recognition down Hermione's spine. She watched Draco's back stiffen but he remained facing forward. She strained her ears to hear what the disembodied voices were saying.

"My dear Lucius, I fear it is too late to worry about image." Dumbledore's voice floated down with a hint of amusement in it. "The Daily Prophet has already drafted in tomorrow's copy of the paper, and we are front page news."

All trace of calmness vanished from Lucius's voice. "I will NOT have my son wasting a month of his stewing in a blistering stinkhole of Mud-..Muggles! I refuse to forgive you for this Dumbledore, and I don't need to remind you that as a member of the governing body…" Lucius broke off as they entered the entrance hall and spied Hermione and Draco. He glared at the girl venomously before turning to Dumbledore and spitting angrily – "If, Dumbledore, you would _permit_ me a moment with my son".

Dumbledore smiled and opened his hands – "Of course. Who am I to stand between a father and his son?"

Lucius turned and strode down the stairs angrily, grabbing Draco roughly by the shoulder and dragging him to a corner of the hall. Dumbledore's smile remained fixed on his face, but Hermione could detect a hint of strain. "Miss Granger, if you would care to take a stroll outside with me?"

Once outside, Dumbledore waved his wand casually at the sky above them and muttered "_quiscere aqua_". They were suddenly enveloped in a warm, dry bubble of air and Hermione smiled graciously at her headmaster. Dumbledore looked at her shrewdly for a moment and began to speak quietly.

"Miss.Granger, I know that you are somewhat upset by your pairing. But…do not think that your friends have got the better deal." Hermione looked at him, slightly puzzled. What could possibly be worse than Malfoy?

Dumbledore seemed to sense this unasked question and smiled enigmatically. "Sometimes you have to give a little of yourself to get something back. You may be surprised." The twinkle now back in his eye, Dumbledore said, "I must be off to see Hagrid, but I wish you good luck. You know how to find me if needs be."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the bubble into the downpour, leaving a warm, dry Hermione watching her headmaster getting drenched and still trying to figure out the point of that conversation.

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**Hmm...what does ol' Dumbledoraus mean? Speculate, speculate, my pretties...**

:P


	5. Galloping Gargoyles

§ **_Chapter 5: Galloping Gargoyles! _**§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

_DISCLAIMER: yes...JKR is da maaaan! as in, this all belongs to her. no quibbles. anyway..._

**...§...**

Hermione leant against the doors to rest her back, and was surprised to find that she could hear a little of the conversation inside. Not wanting to seem too obvious, she turned slightly so that her ear was facing the door.

"…of course you were implicated! But you were not involved, and if you had been, we would not be in this mess! Do not disappoint me again, Draco. You know now what you have to do, and I will be watching to make sure you do not fail."

Hermione held her breath. There was quiet, followed by a loud "click" and a stifled yelp of pain.

"If you fail, Draco, you know the consequences will reach to what is above and beyond my control. This should serve as a reminder of whom you serve, and of whom you represent." He spat out these last words into the silence that followed. Hermione tensed, ready to move from the door as soon as she heard footsteps. "Yes" said Lucius in a low, unnerving voice, as if answering an unspoken question.

Hermione sprang away from the entrance not a moment too soon as the doors were thrown open. Rather frightened, she tried to keep her features composed and innocent as Lucius strode regally through the doors, but she needn't have worried. He walked straight past her and left without uttering a single word of farewell to his son.

Draco stood on the threshold to the castle clutching his wrist to him, a haunted look on his face. Hermione almost felt sorry for him, until he suddenly noticed her and snarled, "What are you looking at, Granger?" She turned away haughtily, but was still worried about what she had overheard: what was Lucius plotting? She wished she had Harry and Ron with her; the three of them worked well in solving these things. Ron came up with the convoluted, hair-brained theories, Hermione shot them down with logic, and Harry picked something in between - normally the perfect solution.

She sighed. Whatever it was, it didn't look good for Draco**. **Mortal enemies as they were, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sympathy for him; at least her father wasn't a cold-hearted, menacing bully. Hermione's conversation with Dumbledore was still fresh in her mind and she decided to follow his advice, or what she thought his advice had been anyway. "Malfoy…?"

His head snapped up. "What" he said flatly. Surprised at his lack of venom, Hermione went on tentatively,

"I know we don't get on,"

"Too right we don't mu-, Granger," he retorted. Obviously whatever was eating at him wasn't going to change the way he reacted. She forced herself to carry on:

"but I thought for these next few weeks, we could at least…tolerate each other. Civilly."

He said nothing, staring through the gates ahead of them; perhaps brooding over this concept, perhaps not even listening to a word she was saying. The silence stretched on and she had almost given up on a reply. Her eyes watched the large figure that was Hagrid ambling up the path towards them and she returned his friendly wave rather half-heartedly.

"I – I can't," Malfoy said suddenly, his haunted eyes holding hers fiercely as she turned her head at the sound. He seemed almost imploring, desperate as she searched his eyes and she looked away confused and a little hurt. "I'm sorry." he said abruptly.

The strange atmosphere of the moment was broken by Hagrid saluting them loudly.

"Alright you 'orrible lot. It seems I'm the only one left willing to take yer both." He winked at Hermione, his black eyes twinkling from beneath his mane of black hair. "Now, as sidelong apparition isn't summat I'd like ter do very much, I've got summat a lil' bit more excitin' for yer".

Oh dear. Hermione knew Hagrid's version of 'exciting' and it was always a far cry away from anyone else's. She cringed inwardly and asked rather apprehensively, "that sounds lovely, Hagrid, but erm, what is it?"

"Thestrals o' course! Got a whole herd of 'em lying 'round here - might as well make use of 'em! Now leave yer bags in there, and Dumbledore'll take care of 'em. Let's go find 'em."

Hermione looked round to catch Malfoy's eye but he had already set off down the path after Hagrid. She followed them both down to the edges of the forbidden forest where Hagrid stopped and said apologetically, "Now I could only find two of 'em willin' to take us today, so you two are gonna have to share. It'll be quick though, they're very fast an' all." She grimaced to herself and marched off after Hagrid into the forest, determinedly ignoring the Slytherin behind her.

After picking their way through the dark forest they came to a small clearing, which to Hermione's eyes was empty. She stood at the edge, unsure if this was the right place, or whether Hagrid was going to continue on into the forest. Draco walked right past her to a space in the left of the clearing and said to Hagrid, "This one then?"

Hagrid nodded. Hermione gave a soft "oh" of realisation and he flashed a smile at her from under his beard. "Malfoy, if you could help 'er up then, being as she can't see…" The boy nodded and held out his hand slowly, a wary look in his eye. Hermione placed hers in his and waited for him to take the lead; her eyes stayed fixed on the forest behind them.

She suddenly felt herself being lifted smoothly onto the invisible steed - for someone so slim, Malfoy possessed a surprising amount of strength - but she didn't have time to contemplate the mystery for long, as she tried to figure out where exactly **on** the thestral she was. Meanwhile, Hagrid had hoisted himself up unto the invisible beast and was floating in midair, looking extremely awkward. Hermione smiled and thought it must be a very strong thestral to take Hagrid. Either that or he had two strapped together.

Draco leapt up behind her in an annoyingly graceful fashion and she felt him shuffle forwards behind her until he was almost touching, but not quite. Hermione felt very vulnerable: she was on top of a strange beast which she couldn't see and with only her worst enemy to catch her if she fell. Then, the beast suddenly started to move forwards and she gave a frightened yelp, not knowing how and where to hold on. Draco's hands automatically moved forwards and steadied her, placing her hands on the thing's mane. Then, as if realising what he had just done, he recoiled abruptly and sat further back.

They were moving fast across the grounds now, and the creature began to angle itself upwards, taking off abruptly as they reached the castle walls. Hermione felt the bottom of her foot scrape the top of the castle walls and yelped "Galloping Gargoyles!" She felt something shuddering behind her and surprised, realised that it was Draco, laughing. Hermione felt herself relax as they soared above Hogsmeade, white smoke drifting up from the chimneys of the thatched rooves beneath which its residents kept warm and dry; and followed the shimmering river snaking through the valley below. She smiled as she thought to herself - who would have imagined: Hermione Granger, soaring above the clouds in the arms of the enemy, and enjoying it?

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**Thank you to: _cutebunnybabe, Mari22Ana, ilovemyblacklab, Volturi-fied, _and _weasleytwinlover_ for reviewing - you guys are the best! and especially, to _Dria-Chan a.k.a. XxXxMuSiCxXxX_, for her advice!**

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**Now, dear readers...it is your turn!** As you know, there are lots of potentially hilarious situations as the wizards go into the Muggle world. I would like to hear what you want me to write about, e.g if you would like to see Malfoy playing rugby or Ron watching tv etc...I await your most valued opinions!


	6. Thaddeus

§ **_Chapter 6: Thaddeus _**§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

_DISCLAIMER: "JKR, creator of this wonderful world of wizards, I salute you!"_

_lol_

**...§...**

Lucius Malfoy stood under the imposing stone archway, staring back at its hundreds of leering gargoyles disdainfully. As a high-flying member of the ministry who ran in ambitious social circles, he had come across his fair share of elaborate stonework; but this was just preposterous! "_Typical_," he thought to himself.

He was not a particularly tall man, but his imposing, upright manner lent to him a height that he could never have achieved otherwise; a height that made his taller associates cower and feel small beneath him. Like his son, his hair was strikingly blond, but this was not his most arresting feature: set, ever-so-symmetrically in his angular face, were those cold, steely blue eyes. Frightening at the best of times, they seemed to have the ability to see right through whoever was unfortunate to encounter them, a power that Lucius had been quick to capitalise on since his adolescence.

Yes, Lucius used his assets well, and along with his prodigious cunning and ambitious mindset, he had risen to the top of the wizarding world. He liked to think that he possessed social graces superior to all his fellow death-eaters and ministry workers, and to demonstrate this he held frequent Balls at the Malfoy manor. He smirked to himself as he thought about this: socialites from across the wizarding world flocked to attend - everyone knew that the Malfoy Balls were THE event of the year. Lucius always felt supremely satisfied as he watched everybody waltzing around the room, confident that he had them all in the palm of his hand.

Today however, he found himself feeling strangely out of his depth. As he stared round at the hideous faces of the gargoyles, he even thought that he could feel an unfamiliar twitching in his stomach. Nonsense, he scolded himself. He almost laughed out loud - there was nothing to worry about, a mere…

He snorted to himself and refused to think anymore on the subject.

Eventually, the heavy wooden door opened silently, and Lucius gave a cough of disdainful impatience as he stared into the dark recesses within. An old, shrivelled house elf came tottering to the door and peered up at him out of the gloom.

"Mr. Malfoy, a surprise visit!" it said, bowing deferentially. "I'm afraid however that the family have gone to London and are unable to – "

"I'm not here to see them." Lucius cut the creature off, snarling. "Take me to Thaddeus."

The house elf cowered visibly at the mention of the name. "Thaddeus, Sir?" it said, frightened. "I…I know not of a Thaddeus…"

"Don't play stupid, elf, if you know what's good for you. Not every house elf is as fortunate as Dobby. I never did get to punish him for his shenanigans, and I've been saving it up…"

With a frightened squeak, the house elf scuttled to one side, opening the door wider so that Lucius could step inside. "To Thaddeus, then, Sir, I take you."

Clearly, his reputation preceded him. Feeling satisfied, Lucius smiled evilly to himself. He strode off down the murky corridor after the wretched house elf, the sound of his cane snapping smartly on the floor ringing out with every step that took him further into the dark depths of the house.

**...§...**

If Hermione had laboured under the delusion that some sort of truce had been forged on the ride from Hogwarts, she was soon corrected. As soon as she slid down off the thestral, Malfoy was back to his same old self.

"What the HELL is that?" he said, a sneer on his face as he pointed through the trees of the forest towards a school playing field, just visible through the trees of the forest they had landed in. A bunch of muddy boys were having an amicable game of football, passing the ball to and fro as they teased and goaded the members of the opposing team.

"Well," said Hermione with a smile on her face, "it's football. A Muggle sport."

"There are no Muggle sports," Draco said superciliously, nose in the air. "We just gave them the rubbish ones that wizards didn't want, centuries ago. And it seems they've made them even worse," he added disdainfully.

Hermione gasped in astonishment at this outrageous and patently untrue comment. "Hmmph" said Draco, after a few seconds more of watching the amusement. Unimpressed, he turned back towards the forest where Hagrid had started walking in the opposite direction.

"Where are we going?" Hermione said, once she had recovered, panting as she ran through the nettles to keep up with Hagrid's long strides. "The school's that way," she said, pointing towards the fields.

Before Hagrid could even reply, Malfoy's sneering voice sailed past her ears from behind – "are you actually stupid, Granger? How would you explain just walking out of the trees in the middle of nowhere, covered in branches, trailing a giant? I don't think even the Muggles are that dumb-arsed to think nothing of it. Honestly…and some people say you're clever!"

Hermione clenched her teeth together and decided to ignore the smarmy git. Hagrid, however, was not so used to controlling his temper, and rounded on Malfoy.

"Now, you look 'ere, Malfoy. You're goin' ter be spendin' the next four weeks with this girl, and if you don't give 'er more respect, then, then…you'll be answerin' to me!" he spluttered, red-faced.

Malfoy smirked, but dodged out of reach of Hagrid's long arms…just in case.

**...§...**

"So, I never asked you - you're from that school that blew up the other day? Oh. my. god. That must have been totally, like, scary!"

"Mmm," Hermione said noncommittally. Dumbledore, brilliant as he was, had created a fully fool-proof cover story for the Hogwarts students. And by fully foolproof, she meant that he had actually gone and created, and then blown up a school, and then put it on Muggle news through his various wizarding contacts in the Muggle world. All in the space of one day. Amazing.

But, overawed by Dumbledore's brilliance as she was, Hermione couldn't help feeling a little unprepared as her new roommate subjected her to a thorough cross-examination of her "old school" -

"So, were there any hot guys killed or anything? Cause that would have been, like, tragic!"

"What?" Hermione asked, a little shocked. "Er, no, no one was killed, I think. Yeah, the explosion was in science block which was far away from the dorms."

"Oh."

Hermione laughed at the dramatic disappointment in the girl's voice, and went back to packing away her shirts in the big wardrobe. The weather outside was no different here than from at Hogwarts – rain had started to spatter against the high windows, and Hermione saw the boys that had been playing football earlier legging it across the playing fields outside to the dry common room below. They had half an hour before teatime, and Hermione was already missing being able to use magic – her clothes would easily have been packed away neatly by now.

"Ah well…" She sighed inwardly, and realised that it would probably do her some good to appreciate wizardry a bit more. Despite her Muggle roots, Hermione was now so accustomed to magic that even she had a hard time remembering what to do without it. She wondered how Malfoy was getting on – when they arrived at the beginning of the afternoon, he had been whisked away to be shown his dorms by the head boy and she had not seen him since. Probably a good thing…

She tuned back in to what her roommate was saying about the various merits of the "hot guys" in their year at school, a small smile on her face.

Upon seeing her for the first time, Hermione had groaned inwardly. Tall, blonde, with big blue eyes surrounded by even bluer eye shadow, her new roommate Helen Holt seemed to be the epitome of "annoying bimbo" - the type of girl Hermione dreaded, and never knew how to get on with. But, as Helen had taken her round the school and introduced her to her teachers and soon-to-be classmates, Hermione had started to warm to her immensely. Her constant diatribe of gossip was silly, yes, but never hurtful or nasty, and she had been friendly and sociable from the very start. She would be no substitute for her two best friends, but for four weeks, Hermione was glad that she could count on at least having one friend.

Which was more than anyone could say for Draco Malfoy at that moment in time…

_**to be continued…**_

**...§...**

**Please review and speculate! What will happen to Draco next, and who is the mysterious Thaddeus...?**


	7. Muggles of Mass Destruction and Pigwee

§ _**Chapter 7: Muggles of Mass Destruction and Pigwee**___§

by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B

**...§...**

After dragging his suitcase across countless courtyards and through long, never-ending corridors, Draco finally stood outside the door to his new room. Glancing around at the scuffed wallpaper and the smelly boots resting on the faded carpet, he didn't have particularly high expectations of whatever sight was about to greet him.

The boy that had brought him here - an overly-helpful, Hufflepuff type - said cheerfully, "here you are then! Do you want me to introduce you to your fellow house members?"

It was hard to believe that this eager-eyed, fluffy haired youth was in fact the Head Boy, and it did not improve Draco's already low opinion of this place.

"I think I can manage, thanks," Draco said coldly. _Honestly_. If this had been Hogwarts, this idiot would have been carrying his suitcases for him, Head Boy or not. He frowned. It was going to be strange few weeks – here he had no reputation; nobody knew just what being a Malfoy _meant_ - he was just "the new boy". Well, they would soon learn. Better just hope he wasn't sharing a room with any Potter-types. That really would be the absolute limit.

Finally seeing that he was in no way wanted, the boy left Draco to his own devices, feeling vaguely disgruntled by the fact that he had just been treated like a little primary-school boy, but not quite sure what to do about it.

Draco pushed open the wooden door, preparing himself. A sight most unexpected, and most unwelcome, greeted him. The room was big, yes, with a high ceiling and large bay windows overlooking a pleasant scene - but there was one (rather large) problem.

This 'problem' was spread across a bed on one side of the room, in a most unflattering and, frankly, rather disgusting position. Its beady little eyes stared up at him maliciously from a pig-like face framed with ginger, curly hair. If Harry was here, he would have said that this could be Dudley's red-headed cousin, but Draco had never had the pleasure of meeting Dudley. Instead, he thought to himself, _my god! this is like some bastardised, grossly obese version of Weasley! _Draco would have laughed out loud if he wasn't so peeved that this git was in his room.

"What are you doing in my room, mu-boy?" he enquired frostily. Best way to treat them, he thought. Show them the Malfoy authority, right from the start– even if they didn't know him, surely they would recognise that he was not someone not to be trifled with.

"What are you doing in MY room?" the pig boomed. _What a comeback, _he thought_, this one's a real wit_. The boy stood up, and was surprisingly much taller than Draco had imagined. He had a mean, runty look in his greedy little eyes. _Hmm, perhaps he's more Goyle than Weasley_, Draco thought, looking at him appraisingly.

Put on his guard a little more by the boy's height, Draco moved carefully into the room, pulling his suitcase behind him. He noticed at the same time that there were, in fact, two beds in the room, and cursed his bad luck.

"Well, it appears that this is now BOTH of our rooms. I'm Draco Malfoy, your new roommate. Hello, hello, bla-di-bla-di-bla, let's-not-pretend-that-we-are-ever-going-to-be-friends, etc, etc." He smiled sarcastically and turned his attention to his luggage. With any luck, the brute would scuttle off, intimidated.

Thump.

Thump.

_Apparently not. _

Draco looked round to see the boy towering over him, face like thunder, encroaching more and more upon his precious personal space. Well, he could outsmart him, he could certainly outrun him, but, hell, he didn't think he could survive being sat on. He held up his hands innocently.

"Look, _mate_. I'm not a particularly sociable person. So, this is how it's going to be – this is my side of the room. That's yours." He pointed to the bed opposite. Despite being much smaller than this beast, he was not going to let his physical presence intimidate him. "Simple enough. Okay?"

Ginger regarded him murderously, before grunting acquiescence and retreating to his bed. Problem solved, for the time being. But this idiot would know his place soon enough. Just wait until this Slytherin had settled into these new surroundings, and then we would see what would happen to ginger-weasley-pig.

_Hmmm_...he would have to think of a better name than 'ginger-weasley pig'...gingepig? weaselpig? Pigweasel? How about '_pigwee'_? _Juvenile... but I like it_, he thought, smirking. _Pigwee you shall be!_

He turned his back on the oaf; it wouldn't do to think let him think he deserved any more attention from Draco Malfoy. Surveying the pitifully small bed in front of him, he sighed quietly and began to unpack his brand new Gertrude Gucci case. As if he needed another reminder of how down-at-heel this was, compared to his quality of life as King of the Slytherin common room. Perhaps, if he did this _job_ well, his father would reward him with some home comforts. He felt a sudden twinge of unhappiness and pushed the thought from his mind, focusing his attention elsewhere.

Two boys had entered the room, obviously pigwee's henchmen. One was short and dark, the other, thin and blonde, with a long face and shadows under his eyes. Both had menacing looks in their eyes, looks that told him they were used to getting what they wanted. Well, well, well. It seemed Draco was sharing a room with the school bullies. He could recognise his own kind, even if they weren't quite of his...calibre. He chuckled to himself, _oh, the irony_. Well, at least his stay wouldn't be uninteresting...

Greeting their malevolent looks with a supercilious smirk, Draco turned back to his suitcase.

"Let's go watch TV. Big Brother's on," he heard the short one grunt.

Draco had no idea what they were talking about. It was obviously some sort of gang code, designed to keep him in the dark about their secret plans. _Well, let them go_, he thought. He wanted them out the way anyway, so he could do some discreet exploring, to get his head around anything strange and Muggle that might embarrass him in the morning.

So far, he had seen several strange objects on the way from reception to his room, and he had every intention of finding out what the stupid things were and how dangerous they could be. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing - it was time to do some sneaking around.

First he took a look around his now empty room. Its large ground floor windows looked out onto a secluded side of the school, in fact, the forest in which they had first appeared was a mere fifty metres away, lending the room a rather sombre lighting. There was a long window seat, which looked extremely comfortable, and a fireplace opposite that, in between the two beds at either end of the room.

There was nothing else to see, so he left the room and began to walk down the deserted corridor, taking time to looking at absolutely everything around him. This school was so completely different to Hogwarts – every wall was covered in displays, work from the pupils – essays, posters, pictures. What he found even stranger was that the pictures were all completely still; utterly unmoving. Didn't their Muggle occupants get bored standing in one position the whole time? It must be awful - the wizard pictures clearly had a much better deal. Perhaps, the Muggle pictures did move in the beginning, but being an inferior kind of breed, they gradually got weaker until they froze?

He didn't know, but it _was_ very strange. At Hogwarts, you were always surrounded by quiet chatter from the portraits, and small movements could be detected out of the corner of your eye: everything was animated and lively. Here, it just felt dead.

As he neared the end of the corridor, he heard a girl's voice from around the corner. Low and husky, it called, "hello?"

"And hello yourself," he called back assuredly, in his most sexy aristocratic voice. _The chicks seem to like that one_, he thought, smirking. _Now where was she?_

"So...how are you?"

It sounded like she was still fairly far away. _How could she see him?_ Perhaps she was spying? Obviously the news of his fantastically good looks had already travelled round the school, and he was starting to replicate the crowd of followers he had at Hogwarts.

"Very well thank you, but I'm going to feel altogether better when I meet you in a minute," he said, huskily. He just hoped there was no one _else_ round the corner. Or, to be specific, no boys. More than one girl, well, add more fun to the party, why not?!

As he walked to the end of the corridor, there was a small silence, and then he heard a self-assured – "I know!"

He chuckled. Cocksure, this one was. Wait until she got a look at him, in the flesh, all to herself. He was sure she wouldn't be so self-assured then.

"Yes, but I don't have much money, it will have to be quick!"

What? What did she think he was? Some sort of high school gigolo that took money in exchange for kisses? _Ha!_ He thought, rounding the corner.

No one was in sight.

"Well, baby, I might just give you one for free!" he said, playing along. "If you just come out from your hiding place..." he left the sentence hanging in the air, and leaned casually against the wall, surveying the apparently empty room in front of him.

She must be hiding in here somewhere, there was nowhere else to go. Well, she could come to him - he wasn't going to go looking. He started whistling nonchalantly, making his way further into the room. It was time to _play the game..._

Just then, a short blonde girl wearing a confused expression appeared from behind a plastic partition attached to the wall. She was holding a big black block with a curly cord attached to it. Draco supposed it was some kind of Muggle weapon. _My, my,_ he thought to himself, _these Muggles are strange_. Was it their normal way to flirt with someone whilst simultaneously threatening them with grievous bodily harm? Was it some sort of female Muggle mating ritual - showing their dominance, or something? He would have to put that question to Granger at some point, he could imagine the look of outrage on her face right now..._excellent...anyway, back to the matter in hand - _

"So, darling, what's it to be? I could introduce myself...or we could get straight on with it?" he said with a smirk.

"Who the hell are you? Would you just...ARGH! I'm on the PHONE!"

Gone were the sweet, husky tones of before; replaced by the voice of an angry, screeching harpy. Draco was utterly confused. The girl let the weapon drop, and now he could hear it..._talking?!_ '_Darling, what's going on,' _ it was asking. _What trickery was this?_ Draco could feel his pale cheeks flushing as he realised that he was completely out of his depth here. With an angry Muggle about to attack him with some unknown weapon of mass destruction, he did what any self-respecting Slytherin would do to save his hide.

He fled.

**...§...**

_**Author note: Sorry this has taken a little longer to come out – I have been caught up in A level results, University preparation, and have been too excited about BREAKING DAWN!! Any other twilight fans out there?? Give me a shout...What did you think? team Edward or team Jacob? **_

_**In fact, how about a little poll? I would be EXTREMELY interested to see if there was some sort of correlation between Dramione-lovers and a particular twilight preference?**_

_**This has been a hard chapter to write, really looking forward to your reviews on this one, each and every one matters to me so please please give me your thoughts! xxx**_


	8. A Rude Awakening

**§ _Chapter 8: A Rude Awakening _§**

**by Elizabeth Bennett - Eliza B**

**...§...**

The next morning, Hermione got dressed in her crisp new school uniform – white blouse, green skirt, green blazer with purple trimmings – and followed Helen down the seemingly endless, wood-panelled corridors towards the dining hall. After climbing over a wall, passing through a small chapel, crossing a deserted courtyard and sprinting across the (apparently) sleeping headmaster's lawn, they arrived at breakfast a few minutes early.

At the beginning of the morning, Helen had insisted that this illegal "shortcut" was the best way to ensure that you missed the mile-long breakfast queue; ten minutes and several grass-stained knees later, Hermione's heart was pounding - both from the short burst of running, and the sheer exhilaration of flagrantly breaking the rules on her very first day, something the Hermione Granger of Hogwarts would never dream of!

Perhaps, she thought, she could 'let herself go' a little here. With no lasting consequences to face if she broke a few rules, a small break from _that_ Hermione Granger might be good for her. In fact, she was sure it would be. _A chance to let out her wild side_, she thought, smiling to herself. Yes, she could think of it as a personality test, an experiment. She couldn't quite bring herself to be a huge rebel, (and couldn't really see the point) but being a little bit more relaxed made much more sense, in theory. Would she be able to do it? Her mind pondered over it whilst they strode up the long corridor outside the dining hall.

The thing was, she wasn't so 'black-and-white' perfect as people always assumed. Yes, she liked to be the best in class, and yes, she really did love learning, and yes, she wasn't ever a "trouble-maker" - but she wasn't as uptight as some of the girls often made out. Sometimes, it got to her, all the little snide remarks about being a 'teacher's pet',' goody-two-shoes', etc, etc. They never gave her a chance to be seen as anything else, and she would have to do something drastic to change their opinions. But – she was proud as well, and she didn't want to sacrifice herself and her reputation just for the sake of other people's insignificant opinions.

She thought that they did it to reassure themselves – if they could convince themselves that the only reason she outperformed them in everything was because she was a little swot who had no life, and not because of innate intelligence, then they would feel better about themselves. She always turned the other cheek – in the end, _she_ had Harry and Ron, the two best friends in the world, and a loving family, and she was doing well – she effectively had "the last laugh". But that didn't mean that she didn't get tired of it once in a while. No matter what the truth was, years of snide comments didn't exactly do wonders for your self esteem.

She recalled the latest incident, the morning before the day it all happened:

_Lavender Brown had been sprawled across her bed before breakfast, reading Witch Weekly and moaning about the upcoming transfiguration test - _

"_I just don't know why McGonagall sets them, every __**single**__ week, when she knows that none of us study for them. Well, except for Hermione," she said, airily._

"_Actually, Lavender, I also haven't had time to revise, so we're all in the same boat." Hermione said evenly, glancing at Lavender in the mirror before returning her gaze to the hair she was plaiting._

"_Yes, but," Lavender continued in a sugar-sweet voice, "__**you**__ actually pay attention in class. Me, well, when you're sitting next to your girls..." She laughed, and waved her hands towards Parvati and the other girls in the dorm, a gesture that was designed to obviously exclude Hermione, " you can't help but enjoy their company instead!"_

_Hermione smiled at her sarcastically and finished tying up her hair. Grabbing her wand, she had left the room without a word._

To be honest, it wasn't ever worth holding a conversation with Lavender: every sweetly spoken sentence had a barbed sting hiding behind it; some sort of implied insult designed to make you look small and to make her look good. There it had been – the notion that, _' I have friends and have fun with them, but because you have no friends you have nothing better to do than study hard'_.

It was so sly – you couldn't react, because there was effectively nothing to react to. All the other girls in the dormitory were just the same. Hermione wondered whether girls were always that bitchy. Boys, if they didn't like someone, would just say it, or insult them, thereby allowing the other one to retort, and gain equal footing. With the girls, there was no winning. Hermione was proud, and would not stoop to their level; no, she turned the other cheek and ignored them. But thank God she had Harry and Ron. Without them, sometimes she would feel utterly alone.

They had reached the end of a long corridor now, and entered the dining hall. Hermione looked around, and was struck by the resemblances between this place and Hogwarts. This dining hall was old-fashioned in a way similar to Hogwarts – wooden tables, parquet flooring, dark wooden panels lining the walls populated with portraits of old headmasters and mistresses looking down sternly upon the room's occupants. The ceiling however, was nowhere near as high, and needless to say, there was no enchanted sky. One whole wall of the long room was made up from large bay windows looking out onto well-manicured lawns and, further afield, several grass tennis courts. With the morning sunlight streaming through onto the fifty or so rectangular tables, it was a peaceful room, the stillness broken only by the soft chinking of cutlery coming from the canteen on the far side.

With their hard-earned place at the front of the slowly-mounting queue, the girls had their pick of toast, fried breakfast, croissants, fruit and plenty of other delectable looking pastries, but Hermione was never really very hungry in the early morning and opted for a simple bowl of cornflakes. There was something quite satisfying about pouring out the milk and shaking out the cornflakes with her own two hands – it made a change from being waited on hand and foot by enslaved house elves. Hermione hoped that Ron was having the same experience at his school – growing up with Mrs.Weasley's wand-whizzingly good domestic skills, she doubted that Ron had ever had to do anything with plain old "elbow grease". It would be an interesting learning curve for him, and a very funny one for Harry to watch...

Not for the first time that morning, Hermione felt a pang in her chest. Whilst being alone in this school – Malfoy hardly counted as a friend – would mean that she would get the full benefit of "Muggle immersion", she couldn't help feeling a little lonely as she stood at the cereal counter, watching the students pour into the lunch hall, all completely unfamiliar and unknown to her.

Hermione was just about to cross over with to the table where Helen was sitting, when a short woman with a red, screwed-up face, tapped her on the shoulder ferociously and barked out– "take a tray!" Hermione obliged and smiled politely at this angry-looking woman, hoping it would placate her. "You'll be cleaning it up if you spill," she threatened, unmoved by Hermione's attempt at being amiable. A bit miffed, Hermione went and sat down next to her new friend with a short sigh.

"I see you have encountered the PB," Helen said, sympathetically. " It was bound to happen sooner or later– she can smell fresh blood, literally!"

"PB?" Hermione asked, amused.

"Psycho-bitch!" Helen declaimed in a whisper, looking furtively across at the cook. Hermione laughed. "No, but seriously, even the teachers are scared of her! You want to watch out for that one, she loves to punish people. I heard she once bit off a first year's finger with her teeth, because he stuck his hand in the cereal box!"

"And _I_ heard, that she didn't even have her teeth in that day, and it was her raw, fetid gums that did the trick!" a loud voice said from behind Hermione.

"Yeah, and then she hung it round her neck on a piece of string, as a warning to any other serial cereal stealers!" another voice said. Both voices chuckled, and two boys walked round towards their table, one pulling out a chair noisily next to Hermione, the other next to Helen.

The first boy that had spoken was fairly tall, with dark brown hair in a dramatic fringe sweeping over his forehead and a black earring in his ear. Sitting next to Hermione, he winked at her and started to tuck into his fried breakfast. His friend, sitting diagonally opposite her, was very short, with blonde spiky hair, and was wearing such a cheeky grin that Hermione couldn't help but grin right back at him.

"So, Helen, my girl, who's your friend?" the blonde one asked, nudging Helen in the ribs with unnecessary force.

"Ow!" Helen yelped and slapped him on the arm. "Henry, Jack, this is Hermione; Hermione, this is Jack, and Henry," she said, indicating first the blonde boy and then the one seated next to Hermione.

Henry solemnly stuck out a hand for Hermione to shake.

"Welcome. To Hell."

His face cracked into a grin at Hermione's look of shock.

"Just ignore Henry's complete and utter cynicism...he loves it really! Don't you Henry, don't you, don't you..." Jack said, reaching over to ruffle Henry's hair whilst simultaneously trying to shove bacon in his ear.

After a few more minutes of banter, Hermione was feeling a little more at home. Henry and Jack's friends, all equally as friendly and rowdy, had come to join them at their table, and Hermione found herself the centre of attention for the first time in a long time. It was a strange feeling, having everybody actually listening to everything you said; but not an unpleasant one. She was sure that some of the boys were flirting with her as well, which was also a relatively new concept to get her head around. Since when had she been a flirt-able person? Certainly never at Hogwarts...

Heads suddenly turned at a loud crash from somewhere upstairs. Hermione looked up from her cornflakes, along with the rest of the half-full dining hall, and peered down the corridor outside towards the source of the banging. A rhythmic thumping, accompanied by what sounded like chanting and shouting, could be heard echoing down the seemingly empty corridor outside. A few people laughed as they heard a loud "_ow! Get off me, you pillocks_!" thunder down the corridor.

Hermione then started to laugh along with them. She recognised that voice.

A few students had gone to the doorway to see what was happening. The thumping was getting louder and some of the boys in the hall had started thumping their feet and hands on the table in rhythm. Hermione saw knowing grins pass between a few of them.

"Oh, I know what this is!" Helen said, next to Hermione. "New boy initiation time!"

"Mmm, they're cutting it a bit fine though – the teachers'll be here soon," Henry said, glancing at his watch with a grin.

"What does that involve, exactly?" Hermione said, curious.

"Well, there are different "stages", but at first –," Henry was just about to launch into an explanation when the double doors of the entrance swung open with a loud crash and a gang of about ten boys came in, supporting an angry-looking, pyjama-clad Draco Malfoy on their shoulders.

"Put me down right now!" he was squawking imperiously, to no avail. The laughing boys carried him over to an empty table and plonked him down at the head of it, beckoning to their friends to gather round. Soon all the boys in the room, and a few girls, had gathered round the long table to watch whatever was about to proceed. Hermione wished she had a camera – if Harry and Ron could be here to see this!

Although she wasn't exactly sure what "this" was, now that the table had such a large audience, blocking her view. Hermione started to get up, but Helen grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"We don't want to get too close – he might spit it...well, you'll see in a bit. Anyway they'll put him up on a chair."

And sure enough, three of the strongest boys had started to hoist Draco's chair up onto the table top. It seemed he had given up trying to get away, and was sitting there with a stony face, looking disdainfully down at the boys. _Oh, lighten up_, thought Hermione. _It's only a joke! _Just then, his eyes, which had been sweeping the room, met hers, and they flashed furiously. He stared at her lividly for a few seconds. Hermione returned his gaze stonily – what right did he have to look at her like that? This was nothing to do with her!

The clapping had started again and all eyes were on the entrance door once more, as a tiny little boy, who looked, in fact, more like a girl, walked in sedately, holding a small bowl of cornflakes aloft like a prize trophy. The cereal was swimming in milk, but the little boy carried on, oblivious to the fact that he was spilling most of it.

"Lick it up, Thomas!" one of the boys called out to him, to chuckling all around. But the boy walked on, reaching the table and bowing theatrically as he handed the bowl to a tall, stringy-looking boy, standing at the front of the crowd with two others; a large, burly boy and a brown-skinned, short one.

"Why, thank you, Thomas," the boy said, putting on a high, affected, falsetto. "Now, Drago, your task, is to devour this bowl of, ahem, cornflakes, with as much might and manliness as you can muster! This is a test of your...vitality, your robustness, and, well I would just like to-"

"Wish good luck to your liver!" Hermione heard Henry call out, to much laughter.

Draco looked a little confused at that last comment, but then his face settled into a smug smirk. As the noise died down, he held out his right arm wordlessly for the bowl.

"I don't get it," said Hermione. "Why is it such a big deal? Has it got liver in it?"

"No, you idiot," Jack said, ruffling her hair, "It's got brandy in it. He won't realise until he's too drunk, and then he has to spend the whole of his first day like that."

"But that's awful!" Hermione said, shocked.

Jack shrugged. "It's only a bit. We do it to every newbie, the teachers never notice, and think they're just confused on the first day. Hilarious for us though! The "test" part is how well they deal with it. I fancy this one's a bit of a weakling," he said thoughtfully, watching Malfoy drain the cereal bowl.

Hermione, thinking about the fact that this was MALFOY they were talking about, got over her initial shock and started to laugh. "haahaa...that's actually quite funny..." And it would be. She might just _have_ to borrow someone's camera...

**...§...**

Draco stood up, to the cheers and hoots of the boys standing below. Having eaten the cereal as fast as he could, he just wanted to get out of there – he didn't really see what all the fuss was about. These Muggles were utterly bizarre.

Intending to walk out of this rabble in true Malfoy style - head held high, imperious look on face, sneaky kick to the shins of his enemies, etc etc - he put his hand on the chair and prepared to nonchalantly jump down onto the floor. One little problem: the room seemed to be tilting.

_What is this?_ He thought incredulously. _Some sort of Muggle trick? _Standing still for a moment, he waited for the swaying to stop.

_Hmmph_. _Nothing happening. Oh well, time to make a move and get out of here._

He stretched out his leg towards the floor, and was mildly surprised to see the floor rising up to meet his face. _Funny_, he thought, _it's almost as if – _

SMACK. Something hit the floor with a crunch.

_My head?_

...

_Um..._

_OW._

He could hear the tittering laughter around him. This was seriously not good. If his Slytherin friends could see him now, in front of all these Muggles...it didn't bear thinking about. He was suddenly angry. Aware on some level that there were people clustered around him, he concocted, on the spot, a brilliant and cunning plan. This basically involved him throwing as many punches as humanly possible at the Muggles, kicking out their legs from underneath them and running, crowing with victory, from the room - just like the action-warlock, hero of teenage wizards everywhere, Argento Schwarzenegger.

Unfortunately, the reality was a little different from the mass-scale destruction he had in mind. Swinging his arm back in preparation, for the first mighty punch, he suddenly found himself on his back, legs and arms flailing in the air like an upturned beetle.

_Bloody Mother of Merlin_, he thought, rolling over and sitting up. _What the hell did they put in that breakfast? _

Then it hit him.

Quite literally.

In the form of the dining room floor. Again.

He was drunk! Completely, blind, off-his-face, drunk. Not caring why or how – for reasoning was quite beyond his capabilities at that moment in time - he started to laugh, a high, girly giggle normally reserved for the precious times when there was absolutely no one within a ten mile radius.

_Ahee hee hee..._

He could hear everyone laughing along with him. Or was it at him? No, surely not, he was a Malfoy, and everyone loved him. _Yes. They did. Absolutely. Um..._

On some (extremely subconscious) level, he was aware of the fact that he was rolling around like some sort of deranged flobberworm in front of about 60 people. _Hmm...but how to remedy this unfortunate state of things?_

"I need... my wand!", he called out. "Waa...Where is it?"

He didn't know who exactly he was talking to, but someone had to know...

_Granger! She would know!_

"Herm...Herm..."

_Oh damn. Shouldn't have picked that one_.

"Herm...H...Granger!"

Someone, a bushy-haired, brown-eyed someone, pushed through the crowd and crouched beside him, doing something to the cuff of her shirt.

"Hello, Granger!" he said, brightly. "How are you today?"

"Merlin's pants Malfoy...just wait a minute," she said through clenched teeth, not looking at him yet.

"I don't know anything about _Merlin's_ pants, Granger, but I'd sure love to get into yours!"

_Oh dear. Did he just say that out loud?_

Studiously ignoring him, Hermione finished fiddling with her cuff, and pointed it towards him. "Sobrietus," she whispered, her face a little pink.

All of a sudden, Draco felt his sense of balance restored, along with a feeling of profound embarrassment. What an earth had he just said?! And was there any possibility (please, God!) that, perhaps, she didn't hear?

Just then, the bell rang for the end of breakfast.

"Come on, let's get up," Hermione said loudly, for the benefit of the crowd. "You'll have to see to the issue of, er, my pants, later," she said quietly, smirking as she dusted off her hands and stood up.

Draco stood abruptly, avoiding all eye contact with her.

"Show's over, folks. See you in class," he said, falsely cheerful, to the onlookers, and strode from the room, not looking back.

Hermione stood there watching him walking away. The nerve of that boy, not even a word of thanks! Everyone else was watching him, mouths open.

Cries of "Is he actually walking straight?", "Bloomin' hec, that's amazing", and even "a god amongst men!" could be heard from all the boys standing around her.

Fuming, Hermione went back to her table to collect her tray. Honestly, she helps him out, he takes all the credit, and will probably now be extra popular with all the friends SHE had just made. She should have just left it.

Although, Malfoy _was_ exceedingly embarrassed, and perhaps that was his price. A small, bemused smile skated across her lips.

And he knew that she knew why.

**...§...**

Please review, my longest chapter yet!xxx

**...§...**


	9. Happiness, Indeed

**Happiness, Indeed**

Lucius Malfoy was never 'happy'. Happy was not a word that he had ever said, or even thought: he lived in a perpetual state of dissatisfaction, always reaching for the next reward, the next payment, the next tip-off, the next rung of the social ladder. His vocabulary and thoughts were littered with the words 'goal', 'aim', 'satisfaction', but never 'happy'. To him, 'happiness' meant ignorance and stupidity: people were only happy if they had no idea what was going on around them – if they were, in fact, mentally unsound.

This cynical mindset had translated to all the aspects of his life – his work, his dealings with the Dark lord, and his family. Indeed, he had never allowed Draco to be "happy" as a child, but instead taught him to strive for the next opportunity, the next prize, to never be satisfied with what he had, but to desire what he could not have. Until he got it. This, he reasoned, was the way to get ahead in the world. With this philosophy, anything was possible. Never be content, never be satisfied with what you had, but reach for something else. He was proud of being a man hard to please, and no one knew this better than his own wife.

Sitting in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa Malfoy was waiting for her husband's return. She sighed, a faint whisper of a sound, as she realised how little she had seen of her husband recently. For all she knew, he could be out consorting with other women into all hours of the night, whilst she waited, withering away inside the family home. But somehow, she didn't think so. He may have his flaws as a husband, even she could see that, but she believed that Lucius was completely loyal to anything he considered his own: his name, his alliance with the Dark Lord, his family. She told herself this, she consoled herself with this knowledge, as she prepared herself for what she was about to do. She told herself that, whatever Lucius was doing, he would always put his family first, no matter what. To her, the safety of her husband and her son were paramount, and she was sure, completely sure, that her husband felt exactly the same. So really, she should have no qualms about confronting him, when he returned tonight. _If_ he returned tonight.

She had no doubt that whatever he was doing was important to the current "project" he was directing, but she was tired of being alone at the Manor, with no one but the House elves for company. Much as she looked forward to the rise to fame and glory that Lucius had assured her that they would experience, once power was restored to the Dark lord, she sometimes felt that the regime took a little too much of her husband away from her.

In the old days, Narcissa had been much more involved than she was now. She shuddered as her memory brushed lightly over those first few years as a death eater. Years later, the same few horrific images were still ingrained upon her memory, and in times of distress they occasionally resurfaced from the dark place she had buried them, despite her best efforts. The only good thing that came from that time, she reflected, was the partnership forged between herself and Lucius. Indeed, when she had turned away from her cruel duty as the Dark lord's foot-soldier, when she had not found herself strong enough to continue the work, it was only her forthcoming betrothal to Lucius that saved her from the full extent of the Dark Lord's wrath. She had always suspected that Severus Snape had also been involved in her pardon in some way, but she had been too relieved to escape that she didn't want to risk it all by probing into the how and why of the matter.

But from that moment onwards, she was cast out from the inner circle . The Dark lord had somehow accepted that as a "weak-willed woman" – a phrase her cousin Bellatrix took great delight in – she could not stomach the work, and she faded into the background. Nowadays, all was forgiven, but not quite forgotten – Narcissa was often in the dark about the real goings on of her husband and her friends: an order, she suspected, that came from the top. But she accepted this role, and in a way was glad that she could be removed from the acts of cruelty that she knew were still commonplace. It was enough that Lucius came home to her every night, that they talked together, soul to soul, and that her beautiful son was safe and well. In a way, Narcissa Malfoy was 'happy', a word she would never use in front of Lucius, but one that she saved for herself. Yes, these last few years had definitely been 'happy'.

But now... now, she wasn't entirely sure. Lucius was more withdrawn – when he returned, they barely talked, and she sometimes caught a sort of feverish excitement about him, a sense of focus and purpose, that seemed to have nothing to do with her. This "mission", or whatever it was, was different from the others. Could the end be in sight? Would she soon experience this 'rise to glory' that everyone talked about? Would she finally be allowed to be 'happy'?

At first, when she had begun to notice the change in Lucius, she allowed herself to be optimistic. She spent a few days redecorating the Manor in anticipation of guests and celebrations. Even though she knew that the "event" could be a few years off, she busied herself with ordering new ball gowns, replacing the chandeliers and buying several new cases of crystal champagne flutes for the banquet hall. She even went into Lucius' office, something she had always been a little nervous about, and started to plan a revamp and whole new colour scheme. _Perhaps the desk could be revarnished_, she had thought, as she tidied away the week-old glass of wine that sat there amongst the sheaves of parchment littering the desktop.

She tutted as she noticed that it had left a ring of red on the piece of parchment it had been resting on. So Lucius was too busy to even take care of his wine now? The Dark lord was working him hard indeed. She had never pried into her husband affairs; indeed, she had never wanted to, but she couldn't help notice, as she slowly traced her wand a circular shape round the heavily scrawled upon piece of parchment, that this was some sort of plan. Probably to do with what was keeping Lucius so busy. So busy, indeed, that he didn't even have time to clear them away. She lazily cast her eye over the parchment as she cleared away the stain, unable to make out much upside down. A few words jumped out at her – death eaters, curse, Dark Lord, Harry Potter, Muggles, potion – the usual.

But a half second later, one particular word jumped out at her more than the rest. This was a word that forced a scream from her mouth, made her hands twist together and sent her heart stuttering. That one word indicated that one of her greatest fears had come to pass. That one word meant that the "safe" world she had imagined herself and her son to be a part of, was coming to an end. That one word, that sent any semblance of 'happiness' crashing down around her. That one word...

_Draco._

* * *

_please review! i've had hardly any reviews :(_


	10. Bonjour Hermione

Chapter 10:

_Warning: a tiny bit of french (with rough translation included!)__  
_

After the breakfast incident, Hermione had had to go back to her room to pick up all her books, and now any hopes of reaching her first class on time were dashed. She raced down the long empty corridor to room 13 and paused in front of the door, exhaling a quick breath before she pushed down on the door handle.

About seven students craned their necks round to stare at the new arrival, ignoring the teacher tapping angrily on the blackboard with her chalk stick.

"Votre attention s'il vous plait! Cette personne-la, est-elle plus important que votre examens ? Non ! Attention !" she rapped sharply on the board with the chalk as a few of the students mumbled « oui, Madame… » and turned their heads reluctantly back. The woman whirled back to the boardwork, completely ignoring Hermione, and half the students turned round again and continued staring.

Hermione kept her eyes on the floor, unsure of how exactly to proceed. The teacher must be purposely ignoring her. She started to make her way towards a free seat.

Suddenly, the ferocious-looking French woman whirled round impatiently and stared down at Hermione through her chunky retro specs. She was short, extremely thin and dressed in a well-cut suit and colourful scarf. About sixty years old, she had the look of someone you would not want to cross.

"Alors….what do you want exactly, mademoiselle? You clearly cannot be one of ze students of this class, because class started, en fait, ten minutes ago. So….?" She cocked her head and regarded Hermione smugly.

Hermione felt her cheeks blushing as the whole class turned their shoulders again to look at her. Determined to redeem herself, she summoned up her best French accent and replied –

"Je suis desolée madame, mais en fait, je suis le nouvelle membre de cette classe. J'ai trompé de salle de classe" _[I'm sorry Madame, but in fact, I am the new member of the class. I got the wrong room]_

The teacher cocked one eyebrow and replied without missing a beat –

« mais, ma cherie, l'autre nouvelle n'ont pas perdu son chemin…_[but, my dear, the other student didn't get lost…]_I'm afraid that I'm going to have to give you a detention. My office, 4.30 ce soir. D'accord, and now, we can continue. Finalement!"

She turned round curtly and continued writing on the board, enunciating aloud the verbs she was writing in a meticulous and clipped voice. Hermione's jaw dropped at the utter unfairness of this woman. She was not ten minutes late, only about two! And who was this other "new student" that was so perfect, she thought, fuming. Unless.....no!

Glancing around wildly, her eyes alighted on a silvery blonde mop of hair sitting at the front of the class, and she groaned to herself. _Not Malfoy!_ She hadn't thought about the fact that they might have some classes together. And why did he have to be in the one class where the teacher apparently hated her? She could bet on the fact that he would do everything he could to exacerbate the problem.

She felt a strange jolting feeling in her stomach as she realised that she had clearly started this class off on a bad-foot and didn't know what to do. Heart sinking, she realised that here, no one knew who she was. No-one here knew that Hermione Granger would never voluntarily miss class, or turn up late deliberately. She could feel a rising panic, but as she moved quietly towards the nearest seat, she consoled herself that earlier on, she _had_ been telling herself to let go a little.

So, in theory, she thought whilst pulling out the chair slowly, it shouldn't matter. She sighed and dropped into her seat. Disturbance over, the quiet class had returned to their books, and Hermione bent to get some paper from her bag.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. Straightening up, she looked to her left to see a pair of warm brown eyes staring back at her. They lingered just a little longer than was normal, before the face broke into a charming smile. Hermione felt her heart flutter a little. She almost laughed out loud – some "letting go and enjoying herself" this was, she hadn't even noticed that she had sat down to what had to be one of the best looking boys she had ever seen in her life. She smiled back slowly.

With a quick glance towards the front, he leant towards her and whispered "Hey. Don't worry about her, she's an old..." But he never got a chance to finish the sentence, because the eagle-eyed teacher shrieked – "excuse-moi!" towards their direction. They sprung apart, perhaps more than was necessary, and Hermione tried to look innocent, aware that the boy was doing the same.

"Once again, it is ze new student who is interrupting us! You are obviously refusing to get along in zis class, so your detention will be half an 'our longer tonight."

Hermione's jaw dropped. Some of the class sent sympathetic grimaces in her direction. She heard Malfoy chuckle slyly.

"And now will you go and sit over zer so you will not deestract my students. Allez!" she pointed to a desk on the other side of the classroom, about five metres away from everyone else. Stunned, Hermione got up and walked slowly towards it, barely registering her neighbour's whispered "sorry." _This woman was a complete......_she seethed, unable to find a word in her head strong enough. Scowling, she watched the woman strutting about in front of the blackboard and gave her a very un-Hermione-like gesture from under the table.

Malfoy was currently answering a question in a slimy French accent: she extended the gesture to point in his direction as well, and felt a small amount of satisfaction from this tiny rebellion. She couldn't see his face, but she could see _hers_, and the sickly smile as she gazed upon her new student was enough to make anyone wretch. Ugh.

Just at that moment, Malfoy glanced around at the classroom smugly and caught her gaze. She stared stonily back, and his face cracked into a wicked grin. "Having fun?" he mouthed.

~~~~~

An hour later, when the sound of bells pealing signalled the end of the class, Hermione angrily swept her books into her bag and was first out of the door. The fact that she had no idea where she was going as she stomped along the corridor did nothing to alleviate her bad mood. Her cardigan, which she didn't want to waste precious time putting on properly, had fallen down her back and was partially dragging on the floor. She knew her timetable was right at the bottom of her bag where she had left it, but could not bring herself to stop until she was a long way from that wretched classroom, wretched teacher and wretched _Malfoy_.

"argggh!"

She let out a small scream of frustration as she rounded the end of the corridor, where the building open out to a small brick-red courtyard, perhaps one of the ones she had dashed across this morning. The giddy happiness of this morning seemed a far cry away from the bad turn the day had taken.

But it seemed that the world wasn't quite done with ruining Hermione Granger's day yet. Just as she put her foot outside the door into the courtyard, she felt a tug at her back, and looking round, saw that her cardigan had snagged. But it was too late. Her forward motion already begun, she just had time to turn around and see the concrete paving rising up to smack her in the face.

Her yelp was muffled by the sound of her books crashing to floor as they fell from her arms. She couldn't believe her luck, and lay there for a second, feeling an uncharacteristic petulance rising up inside her. Why was everything bad happening to her?! _What had she done to deserve all this?_

Sitting up, she gathered her skirt around her in case she stood up and flashed everybody her knickers, as if she hadn't done enough already to embarrass herself. Luckily, the throng of people she followed to the courtyard had mostly dispersed, and only a few small first year boys were left to giggle and point. _Well, let them laugh_, she thought, _because this is where it ends_. From this time today, things were looking up, she told herself. It couldn't get worse.

She began to dust down her hands.

"Granger, Granger, Granger," a smooth voice drawled from behind her.

Oh no. She was wrong. It could get worse. Much, much worse.

Malfoy. She said through clenched teeth, spinning around. "Is it not enough to drop me in it, in my first ever class! Come to see it through have you, make sure I'm properly humiliated?! You stepped on my cardigan, didn't you?" She stalked towards him, seething. There he stood, tall and languid, with his sweater slung over his shoulder and..._her books in his hand?_

"Wh - ?" she stopped momentarily.

Cool and detached, he replied, "Granger, I didn't step on your cardigan, it snagged on that nail." He pointed to a rusty nail attached to the old courtyard door. Hermione saw the fragments of her red cardigan twisted round it and realised he was telling the truth. Unable to make a comeback, she turned on her heel and started to cross the courtyard, digging in her bag for her timetable at the same time.

Someone fell into step besides her and she looked up and groaned internally. Malfoy. Why wouldn't he leave her alone?

He was watching her face, one eyebrow raised. "Hermione Granger wasn't going to walk off without her precious books was she?" indicating her books, still held under his arm. She felt her face colour, but reached out and made a snatch for them - "let me have them then!" He moved his arm just out of her reach, grinning now. "Wouldn't want you to fall over again..." he said, eyeing the small fountain that Hermione had only just avoided walking into.

"I'm not some...some '_damsel in distress'_ you have to rescue, Malfoy! Just go away!" she said in a voice fraught with tension and annoyance. Draco smiled and continued walking, eyes on the horizon. Hermione let out a loud, annoyed sigh, and saw his smirk widen.

She decided the best tactic was silence, and ignored him, trying to walk a bit faster. He lengthened his strides easily, to match her.

Defeated, and severely peeved, she stopped and wheeled to face him.

"Draco Malfoy."

He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to go on. She crossed her arms. "I need to get to my next class. Now if you will stop BUGGING me and give me my books, I can get there."

He didn't move, except to raise that one eyebrow slightly higher. "And where would 'there' be, Granger?"

"What?" she narrowed her eyes.

"There. I don't believe you know where it is. Last time I checked, you hadn't even consulted your timetable. Which, if I am correct, tells me that..."

He pulled out a crumpled piece of A4 from between the pages of her French dictionary. Hermione gasped.

"...your next class is Maths, in M3" He held out her timetable, watching her with a hint of a smirk on his face, eyes glittering. She grabbed the piece of paper, rather ungraciously, and thrust it deep into her pocket. Turning on her heel, she walked the last few steps across the courtyard, into the dark cloisters and along the nearest corridor. She breathed a sigh of relief. Finally. Gone.

"You're going the wrong way," a voice called through the darkness.

Hermione threw up her hands dramatically and wheeled around to find, surprise surprise, an unpleasantly familiar face.

"Will you stop FOLLOWING me?"

"Granger. You don't want to be late for another class, do you?" He turned around and started walking away. He was right, Hermione thought, despair starting in. She actually had no idea where she was going, and everyone seemed to have already moved on to their next classes. Fabulous. Why was everything going wrong today?!

"I'm heading that way. Follow me" Malfoy called over his shoulder. Hermione hesitated, but decided that she had no other option than to follow him.

With Hermione dragging a few paces behind, they re-crossed the now empty courtyard and turned left in front of the door she had tripped up by, making their way up a path through carefully manicured lawns, towards a low-rise, red brick building. Hermione would never have found this in time.

"How do you know where this is?" she asked petulantly, breaking her vow of silence.

"Did a little exploring last night." Malfoy replied nonchalantly, without turning round.

"Mmm, exploring maths classrooms. Well if that's your idea of fun, Malfoy..." Hermione said grumpily. She was in a very bad mood now, and Malfoy was a good enough punch-bag as any. In fact, better than any, considering what she had suffered at his hands for many years.

He didn't rise to the bait though, and Hermione was a little disappointed to have no outlet for her frustration. They continued on in silence until they entered the building, and Draco pointed to a door on the right. "Voila." He said dryly. Hermione rolled her eyes and took the books he held out.

She opened the door tentatively to find, yet again, a full class turn round in their seats to stare at her. The teacher continued writing on the board, oblivious of the interruption. She cleared her throat.

"Erm, excuse me, Sir. I'm sorry I'm late..." the teacher turned round and peered at her owlishly through thick spectacles, along with his class. "I, er..." She realised that she actually had nothing to say as an excuse. The teacher's frown began to deepen behind his glasses.

"We're new students," a smooth voice cut in. Hermione looked round sharply.

"If you'll forgive us, Sir, we went to the wrong classroom. I'm Draco Malfoy and this is Hermione Granger." He flashed the man a small smile. "Shall we sit down?"

"Ahem, yes, yes, do please." The old teacher smiled back at them both, waving his hands towards some spare seats at the far side of the room. "You'll find text books on the front desk here. We're just starting differential equations, making some notes, yes, ahem. Well, do sit down!" he said gently, prompting them to move. Hermione smiled anxiously at the old man and moved towards her new seat. But inside her head was spinning. Why on earth was Malfoy doing MATHS?

They sat down and curiosity overcame her. She pulled out a piece of paper from her new book, and as the class copied down the notes, she wrote her own ~

_Malfoy – why are you doing maths? What subjects are you doing? How are you going to keep up if you've never done it before? Differential equations are quite advanced, you know._

She glanced around quickly to make sure the old man was still facing the board, and chucked the note onto Malfoy's desk next to her. He took it, looking somewhat surprised and gazed at it a while, before turning it over and writing a reply. She tapped her fingers on the desk while she waited. Eventually, he threw back the paper on her desk and scowled at her. Her eyes widened and she started to read.

_Granger, believe it or not, I've actually done differential equations before. And calculus, integration, everything else. And why? Well, work this out, brainbox – _

_Malfoy = money._

_Money + Lucius Malfoy = son who knows how to manage money_

_Mathematics + arithmancy = managing money. _

_Therefore Malfoy = can do maths._

_So get off your Gryffindor high horse. _

Hermione was a little annoyed at herself as she felt an odd sense of guilt snagging at her conscience. She realised she had unfairly offended him, and much as offending Malfoy was something she would normally take great pleasure in, he HAD helped her out this morning, apparently of his own volition, so this time she felt a little bad. Sighing, she wrote back,

_Sorry. That's interesting, I didn't realise maths was used by the WW. Well, thanks for getting us out of trouble. _

Perhaps he would leave her alone now. She thrust the note over to his desk again, ignoring him, and began to studiously copy down the notes from the board. That was enough dealings with Malfoy for the day. She didn't want to lose what was left of her pride.

But apparently, he wasn't thinking along the same lines. A piece of paper materialised in front of her eyes, and she unfolded it to see a curt – _"WW?"_

For someone who was supposedly the "cream" of the wizarding world, you'd think he knew its abbreviation. She tutted under her breath and wrote back quickly:

_"Come on, Malfoy, we're "undercover" here. I mean the world that we live in, full of w _ _ _ _ _ _."_

She threw the note back, and bent down back to her work, determined not to fall behind in the first lesson. The teacher had started to explain the last problem on the board, and she sat up attentively, springing back to the Hermione she knew. She could feel her mood lifting slightly already, this was a new challenge, and she was learning something new and different. The fact that Malfoy was here shouldn't put her off enjoying this class.

But it was hard to ignore him when he was sitting there with such a pointed smirk on his face she wanted to slap him. She glared at him quizzically, and he pointed at the note which had again found its way on to her desk. She opened it under the desk warily, keeping her eye on the board.

_Granger, you dirty girl. Wash your mouth out with soap. Anyway, what's all this rubbish about undercover? Who was it that whipped out their wand this morning?_

Incensed, Hermione scribbled back furiously –

_You ungrateful swine! And may I remind you that I wasn't the only one thinking about 'whipping out my wand' this morning, if you remember. Just get on with your work and leave me in peace!_

She threw the note on his desk and glared at him pointedly. He smirked back at her and unfolded it, reading. His smirk faded quickly, soon to be replaced by a small twisted scowl. Confident that she had won that particular battle, Hermione turned to face the blackboard and resolved not to look in Malfoy's direction for the rest of the hour. And so it was that, with her attention focused raptly on the rest of the maths lesson, that she did not see the touch of pink in her neighbour's cheeks... a colour that took an unusually long while to fade.


	11. WorldWideWeasley

**Chapter 11: WorldWideWeasley**

The class ended and everybody filed out of the maths room, chatting amiably. Hermione let the sounds wash round her; the morning's incident had left her feeling rather sour and she couldn't muster up the will to socialise yet. Needless to say, Malfoy had fluidly slipped to the front of the queue of people pushing to get out of the classroom and exited swiftly.

Glancing at her timetable, a window of forty-five minutes free time presented itself, so she contented herself with some exploration, lost in her thoughts. Wandering along the interminably long maths corridor she peered in to find similarly empty classrooms, some with a lone teacher inside gathering their books. At the end of the hall there was a small computer room, empty except for one small girl playing what looked like online poker.

Hermione pushed open the door slowly and walked inside. She pulled out the nearest swivel chair and sat herself in front of the monitor.

_Ahhh, computers_. Her Muggle upbringing had lent her technical-know-how; she knew computers as every-day, normal objects. But she also possessed the strange dual perspective that came from being removed from the Muggle world for months on end – she could appreciate just how strange and amazing an invention they were. The fact that everybody in the world could theoretically communicate from this one box sitting in front of her; that she could just find out any snippet of information by typing it in, rather than spending hours in the library, was simply amazing. If wizards could adapt the internet for their own use, a whole myriad of uses would unveil themselves: endless possibilities for swapping spells online, keeping in touch with wizards across the world. Including, of course, she thought with a sigh, endless opportunities for you-know-who to exploit. If only they had had it in their first year – they could have found "Nicholas Flamel" in an instant! She laughed softly.

She had a thought. "Um, excuse me?"

The small ginger head whipped round, pigtails whirling.

"Do you know if I can log in if I'm new?"

"Yeah," said the girl in a dead-pan voice, turning back to her poker game, "just type in your name and 'password' as the password, then you can change it."

"Ok, thanks," said Hermione, to no response. She tapped on a few keys, and soon enough, was logged in. She automatically opened her email programme, just to see if the school had sent her anything.

At that moment, the door banged upon and Helen walked in, pointing at Hermione triumphantly.

"Here you are!" she said loudly. "I've been looking everywhere for you! I told you I had third period free as well! What are you doing in the maths computer room?" She plonked herself down in the chair next to Hermione and waited for her answer, swinging around on the chair and casting a curious look at the unlikely gambler.

"Um, just seeing if I had any mail?"

Helen looked unimpressed. "Well. Do you?"

Hermione looked at the screen and saw an "incoming message" "Apparently so." She said, a little smugly.

"Ooh, Albus Dumbledore, who's that? Your boyfriend?" Helen was suddenly much more interested.

Hermione was absolutely flabbergasted. She sat there, staring at the screen. Albus Dumbledore? Albus Dumbledore? Wh...How...Wh....How did he get an EMAIL ADDRESS?? And WHY?

The shocked silence stretched on. And then Hermione burst out laughing. It was all too strange.

Helen started to giggle as well. "Obviously an ex, then! Go on, let's see what he says..." she grabbed the mouse from Hermione and double clicked.

"Hey – no!" Hermione was suddenly annoyed, at both Helen and Dumbledore. It was mighty careless of him – anyone could read it – as what had just happened just proved.

Luckily she didn't have to worry. It was not a "magic email". It read, simply,

_Hermione._

_ I hope you are getting on well. I have found out that Harry and Ron's email are: __.__, and __.__, if you wish to contact them. I contact you because, with an old man's hindsight, I realised that you were, perhaps a little unfairly, one of the few people not placed with a friend. Whilst my initial assertion remains true – that you may get much more out of this than the others because of this very fact – I realise that at first it may be difficult. I hope you find these a comfort. I know I don't need to remind you of the rules. _

_Best Wishes_

_Albus Dumbledore._

The email address was .uk.

* * *

Draco headed away from the crowds of incessant chatter, the silly laughs and loud, Muggle laughs. Had these people no sense of decorum? They moved as one large group, like cattle, all laughing, talking, and babbling. There were no house groups like at Hogwarts; everybody was friendly to everyone in a fake, phony way. It was disgusting. He longed to be surrounded by his staunch supporters, protecting each other in an enclave of Slytherin loyalty. That was true friendship: seeking out people like yourself, and standing out from the crowd. At Hogwarts it was easy. You knew who your friends were: people like you; your house. You didn't need to bother with the rest. It was a perfect system. _This is exactly why I shouldn't have been put with Granger_, he thought, cradling his wrist absent-mindedly. It was never going to work – they were destined not to get on in any way, they had absolutely nothing in common and never would. Dumbledore, his father, or anyone else who thought otherwise was a fool.

* * *

As soon as Helen's short attention span was exhausted, Hermione waited until the door had closed behind her friend's back. Casting a quick glance behind her to check her companion was still suitably engrossed, she typed:

"_Harry – it's Hermione. If you're online, go onto a messenger programme and add me, I've got a free period and would love to chat. Ron too. X_". She clicked send, opened messenger and waited, thoughts wandering back to Hogwarts.

Five minutes later she was interrupted from her reverie by the 'ping' sound signalling a new email.

"_Hello Hermione! Wow, how on earth did you find my email? Well, it's great, whatever. I've got to go and collect something but Ron's just next to me here and I've set it up so you can talk to him. We've got about 15 mins before the next class. Speak soon, Harry."_

Hermione exhaled with pleasure, marvelling at the good fortune and timing.

_'RonZapGang' is now online._

_New conversation. Open?_

She clicked, a grin plastered across her face

~

**RonZapGang:** hello? Has harry done this right?

**Ilovethelibrarylol:** hey, Ron! J How's it going?

**RonZapGang:** wow this is quick. These electrizitees are way faster than owls!!!!!

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: yeah. Muggles are pretty clever, eh?

**RonZapGang**: in a weird muggle way. but it takes me ages to find the letters!!!!

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: I know.

**RonZapGang**: What howcome

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: because you take way longer to type a message than I do!

**RonZapGang**: oh shut up you probably have one at home

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: what, a Muggle?

**RonZapGang**: har-har. No a typing thing

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: yeah. But if you get used to it now, maybe we could use it in the summers to chat? They always have computers in the Muggle libraries to use for free.

**RonZapGang**: nah i think i prefer owls really

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: so , anyway, what is your school like? Is it anything like Hogwarts? How are your subjects?

**RonZapGang**: ok

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: well go on then...tell me more than that!

**RonZapGang**: Wait i am typing it all hold your horses hermione!

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: ok J

**RonZapGang**: it's quite cool actually i have made some good friends actually once you get past the muggleness theyre exactly the same. theres a really cool guy called teezap, you would like him he makes me laugh and he has a crazy family like me so we moan about that. And well the lessons i dont understand whats going on half the time but i just ask harry. I think they all just think im dumb. art is a laugh coz me and teezap just draw stupid pictures and rant on about how its proper art and how deep it is and stuff.

And history well i thought it would be hard and it is REALLY. but sometimes we watch the tv which is COOL and did you know there were loads of muggle wars? Its crazy all the stuff they do to each other. Bit sick. But yeah its all good. Teezap is awesome.

Is your school any good?

**RonZapGang**: har har and why is your name so stupid?

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: it's called irony, Ronald...I did it so you could be sure it was me. Well I'm glad you sound like it's going ok. Make the most of it, I'm sure your dad will be plugging you for muggle knowledge as soon as we're home! How is Harry?

**RonZapGang**: yer alright. Dunno about Harry really. Sure he's fine.

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: and my school is really good, thanks. I've got a friend called Helen and a lot of the boys are really nice. And, yes, everybody knows about the wars! There were two huge ones this century, that absolutely everyone knows about because they were so terrible and so many people were involved, that's why they're called world wars. But there are always other ones going on the whole time...It's awful, really. I guess people in the Muggle world just get used to it, but still.

**RonZapGang**: yer but the weapons were cool

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: Ron! Muggles can't fix wounds by magic. Once these people get blasted to pieces, or little bits of metal blasted through their skulls, nothing can be done about it! They're dead.

**RonZapGang**: oh yeah. I forgot.

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: well we shouldn't argue. I'm sorry. It's very nice to talk to you. I do miss you two...I mean everyone here seems really nice but it's not the same, sometimes I have to really try hard not to accidentally drop something magical into the conversation! What do you mean you don't really know about Harry?

**RonZapGang**: Dunno Teezap isn't too keen on him so I havent seen him really. wait did you say LOTS of boys? Who? Youre not too good friends with them are you? Watch out for them because they might do things differently to us at Hogwarts...

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: oh honestly, Ron! It's only been a few days, it's not like I know people well at all! Calm down. None of the boys could ever match you and Harry etc etc bla bla.

**RonZapGang**: i dont mean that you know what i mean

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: well I appreciate your concern, really, but I think I can manage. And hang on, what? So this Teezap guy vetoes your friends, huh? Why are you friends with this idiot?? You can't just leave Harry alone just because some stupid Muggle doesn't like him for some reason? What are you doing?

**RonZapGang**: whatever. Harry's fine. ok well just watch out. OH! Has Malfoy been completely humiliated yet please say yes.

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: well he's kept quite quiet actually. Although today, it was quite funny, the boys had some sort of ritual where they dragged him out of bed in his pyjamas and made him eat cereal laced with whisky and gin, in front of everyone. He was quite drunk for a bit.

**RonZapGang**: ok thats weird. Well tell me if anything funny happens to him. I have to go now sorry they turn computers off in a bit. Bye Hermione xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: Wait! Is Harry there?

**RonZapGang**: No he went ages ago

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: oh! Ok. Well, can you tell him to email me.

**RonZapGang**: ok if i see him ill tell him. Bye bye xxxxxxxxxx

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: ok bye Ron! Sleep well. Come on msn tomorrow night. Miss you two! speak soon xxx

**_RonZapGang is offline. Do you want to send this message in an email instead?_**

**Ilovethelibrarylol**: oh.

Realising that she now had to get to her next class three courtyards away, Hermione logged off quickly and left. She didn't know how much you could read into typing as a form of conversation, especially with someone who had never done it before, but something seemed slightly off with Ron. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.


	12. Encounters Extraordinaire

Chapter 12: Encounters

Rain started to pelt the windows of the dinner hall at about six, and by seven o' clock, it was clear to the students waiting inside the dining hall that it was not going to end anytime soon. Hermione and Helen made their way back to the boarding house, feeling strands of their hair curling in the rain and then becoming so drenched that that was impossible. Pyjamas seemed like an excellent plan, and by seven thirty they found themselves sitting on their beds pyjamas and slippers, with a cup of cocoa from the kitchen and towels wrapped around their wet hair.

Hermione sipped her tea, looking around for something to do. Of course, homework had been completed two hours earlier, and as yet, she had no other reading material. She would have to pay a visit to the library very soon, in fact, she was surprised she had not already.

Helen noted her friend's boredom and chucked a magazine across to her. "Here, I've finished with this one, you can read it."

Hermione flicked through the pages briefly, her eyes alighting here and there on various articles on the hot new thing – clothes, shoes, people. It was strange to see a gossip magazine without some mention of Harry anywhere, no matter how small. To think, that these people had no idea that he existed, when he was so famous in a world under their very own feet. It was an odd thing.

She turned over the page devoted to "mega-mega-mega hot heels" and was startled to see the face of a well known wizard staring back at her.

"Draco Malfoy!?! WHAT?! But he's a....he can't!"

There was silence. Hermione twisted round from her position on her bed to see Helen, sitting on hers, looking cheekily amused.

"Did you like my little addition?" Helen giggled.

"Wha....oh! you stuck this in?" Hermione frowned.

"Well, obviously! He's not famous...as far as I know?" Helen cocked an eyebrow, still smirking.

"Ha...ha.." Hermione laughed weakly. She had almost revealed herself there for a moment. It was very well stuck on...

She closed the magazine and it fell to the floor with a lame sort of "flop" sound.

"Er, Helen, why do you have a picture of Malfoy anyway?" Hermione said, bemused.

"Oh, I took it the other day with my phone. This was what I was doing earlier whilst you were doing your equations" She waved her hand airily. "I was thinking we should make a guy scrapbook...a guy-book...guy-scrook...?" She laughed.

Hermione smiled a little too widely. "But, Malfoy..."she said, leaving it hanging.

Helen smirked wickedly. "Did you not read the article underneath it? The perfect fit I think!" she trilled dramatically.

Hermione's look of confusion was answer enough. "Oh, give it here!" Helen sighed and swept the magazine off the floor, sitting back on her bed cross-legged and opening it with a flourish.

"See. Page thirty two," she announced, holding the magazine like a scroll.

"_Don't fall for these men!"_

"_At last, scientists can explain our love of bad boys. A study of 35000 people in 57 countries found that men judged to be narcissistic, cunning and self –obsessed had the most success with women – because women equate these traits with the ability to father healthy children...blaa blaa"_

Hermione snorted. "Well, you got him there in one – narcissistic, cunning AND self-obssessed! But...success with women...well…to be honest I've never really seen much evidence of it," she said contemptuously. "Unless you count his devoted Slytherin squeeze Pansy, who's so drippy they hired a plumber!"

Too late, she realised that she had let slip too much, but Helen didn't seem bothered by the details.

"Well, we'll see. Perhaps I can change that," she said with a wink and flick of her hair.

Hermione was aghast. "What?! Are you mad? You're a mu – you're not really his type" Hermione covered quickly. But, she thought, Helen, blond bombshell as she was, was probably exactly his type. And no one would know…would Malfoy really go for her? She felt strangely annoyed at Helen all of a sudden.

"And he's a bit of a social outcast, you know...so not really your type either." Hermione didn't know why she was being so insistent on this. Did it matter?

"Yes, but maybe he's an outcast because he chooses to be. It's different...kinda sexy..."

" Well, you don't know Draco Malfoy like I do!" Hermione retorted.

Helen looked slightly shocked.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to snap. I just don't want you to get taken in by this awful excuse for a human being" Hermione grumbled, turning over a page in her magazine.

Helen waved her hand airily and gallantly chose a different subject to talk about.

"So, what do you think of Jimmy? I hear he might have set you in his sights"

"What?!" Hermione jumped up, sitting on her knees, Malfoy forgotten. "Who's Jimmy?"

Their chatter drifted out of the open window, mixing with the gentle sound of rain hitting the leaves outside. Elsewhere, light from the big bay windows streaked out into the darkness, streaking the lawn outside with intermittent patches of light and dark. Conversation drifted from half open windows and was lost to the sound of the rain outside. Only the boy outside sat, drenched in rain, sacrifificing all comfort and warmth for his mission, and hearing only one conversation.

* * *

The rest of the week passed smoothly – Hermione settled in to her new classes with fervour only she could manage, got to know everybody in her class and house dormitory. Evenings consisted of sitting at the dinner table with Helen, Harry, Jack and the gang until the twilight began to fall, laughing and chatting, and then chilling out in the grounds or doing homework. As for Malfoy, Hermione barely saw him except for Maths and French classes, where he had taken to staring right through her as if she didn't exist. Unusual as this was in their normally antagonistic relationship, it was a welcome change that he left her alone to enjoy herself. All in all, the 'new, relaxed Hermione' plan was proceeding nicely. Hermione could feel herself relaxing into the Muggle pace of life: not that it was any slower than the wizard one, just different – indeed, so far on the fourth day, she had got up completed the usual crazy route to early breakfast with Helen (although these days they seemed to be joined by the whole gang of boys), and had spent the day in classes, lunch sitting in the grounds with Helen and some other girls from the dorm, and had – to no one's surprise more than her own – just emerged relatively unscathed from an afternoon of P.E. Hermione had never been one to relish physical pursuits – first year Quidditch lessons were a distant memory – and so was most surprised when she found herself enjoying Muggle sports. The sport in question was netball, and although her level of fitness left much to be desired, (she was quickly moved from being centre to being goal shooter as her puffing red face gave away the fact that she was about to expire), she had a very enjoyable afternoon. Sports, she reckoned as she pulled back on her tights in the changing room, weren't so bad after all. Only if they didn't involve a damned broom.

Hermione, unused to getting dressed the Muggle way (i.e. slowly) was last out of the changing room, but she didn't mind a bit of solitude. Flushed with the glow of exercise, she eventually made it out of the room, only to walk smack bang into a large hulking shape waiting outside the door.

"Argh!" she cried as she rebounded backwards to find herself looking up into a surprised face with brown eyes looking back at her, an amused twinkle in his eye, with his hockey bag slung over one shoulder. " Slow down there Hermione!" he winked. "Almost knocked me over."

He brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulder, and then put his arm round her shoulder, steering her along the corridor. "Now, I know you and Helen probably have plans. But I have a better plan."

Hermione was a little swept off her feet. The boy from her French class that she had sat to on the first day – and had not spoken to since – knew her name, her friends, and was acting awfully familiar.

"But first - thanks to that evil French madame, we have never had the chance to properly introduce ourselves. I'm Jimmy. Jimmy Rose." He let go of her arm; they were outside next to the flowerbeds now. "And you are the mysterious new Hermione Granger." He stared intently at her for just a moment, and then his face broke into a charming smile. Hermione couldn't help but return it.

"Er, hello." She brushed a strand of hair behind her face, uncharacteristically lost for words.

He was just about to say something else when someone brought down a hand on her shoulder hard. She jumped and twisted round to see the sweating games master sporting an angry twist of the mouth under his moustache.

"Jimmy. Get inside and finish cleaning those boots. Detention is not over yet. Now!"

Jimmy hesistated a moment, catching Hermione's eye mischieveiously before replying "yes Sir, right away Sir, yes Sir, yes Sir" , leaning down to whisper in her ear as he strolled past – "Plan B it is. See you later."

"Now Jimmy!" the master barked in his ear. Turning back to wink at her, Jimmy Rose sauntered back inside.

* * *

A meeting with her maths teacher to go over extra work meant that Hermione finished school 15 minutes late, and upon going outside noted that there was no one to be seen. It was a crisp, bright winter's day and she suspected that people had conglomerated and made a group decision to go and enjoy the evening sunshine together somewhere. The sounds of laughter floated up from the trees in the cove below the maths department, but peering over the lip of the low wall Hermione could only see the much younger years. Oh well, she decided that it would be nice to have a few hours alone. Sharing a room and living with complete strangers 24/7 could be a little tiring.

Wandering along the deserted corridors, she found her footsteps leading her not towards the lunch hall but to the library. Missing her old haunt at Hogwarts, she was reminded of her notion to see what this particular library had to offer. She was almost surprised she hadn't ventured inside already, but thinking back over the last few busy days she realised how differently the new Hermione was spending her time.

Lost in thought in the cool dark corridor, she saw not a soul as she wandered along. Reaching the arched stone door to the library, she looked inside. Expecting to find and austere wooden-panelled high-ceilinged retreat (for that's what all libraries should be, surely?!) she was instead confronted by something entirely different: a multi-coloured jungle of bookshelves snaking around haphazardly on the bright red carpet. In between the bookshelves, in the little passages and cul-de-sacs lay squashed bean bags. The warm winter light streamed in through the high windows and lit up all the bright colours. It was a happy welcoming room, with an air of relaxed conviviality, and Hermione pushed open the door, shamelessly excited.

No-one seemed to be in the library: all she could hear were the faint sounds of the school's ancient heating system clunking away in the background. Soaking up the delicious idea of these labyrinths to explore, she traced her finger along the first bookshelf, wandering silently up and down the twisting towers of Muggle knowledge: history, astronomy, mathematics, biology. Occasionally she pulled out an interesting looking book and flicked through it, but first times in a library were never about focusing on one thing: she wanted to taste all that was on offer, sample the sumptuous delights of knowledge before she settled.

Towards the side of the room where the sun was not shining she encountered literature. Recognising many of the Muggle classics which she had always intended to read but never got round to, she pulled out Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, handily placed right in front of her, and dropped down into a particularly squashy-looking yellow bean bag at the front of a large pile. She was just opening the first page when something breathed right down her neck: "Like a bit of Heathcliffe do you, Granger?"

She screamed and bolted up, eyes whipping round in fright behind her. "What…arghhh. What are you doing Malfoy?! I thought no one was in here, where were you?" she demanded furiously, heart beating wildly with the shock. He chuckled with obvious glee at the look on her face and pointed to one of the bean bags at the back of the pile, complete with a heavy indent where he had just been sitting. Folding his arms languidly, he leaned back on the bookshelf behind him and looked her up and down, appraisingly. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you in here earlier, Granger. The library is the Granger's natural habitat, is it not?"

She smiled , a fake, wide grimace, at him and started to walk away, cross that her exploration time had been cut short, and annoyed at having been caught completely unawares for the second time that day.

"Wait!" Draco called out languidly. She kept on walking. "For goodness sake, Granger, stop being so precious, I was only teasing. And you still haven't answered my question." he called at her retreating back.

Hermione stopped. "What question?"

"Heathcliffe." He said, staring at her. She looked at him, puzzled, and then realised what he was talking about.

" I haven't read the book yet" she said sharply. "So I don't know." She turned back to go out again.

"Really?" said Draco, sounding surprised, carrying on the conversation as if she hadn't done anything. "But it's a classic. I've had it on my bedroom shelf since I was eight years old. I'm surprised at you, Granger."

Hermione turned round again. "Really, Malfoy. I hardly think someone like you is going to have Muggle books on his shelf. You talk such a load of bull-"

"I think you'll find, actually," he said, cutting in smoothly with a laugh, that Emily Bronte was a highly acclaimed witch, inventor of many spells, with a small but passionate sideline in books. It's quite an interesting story actually," Hermione became an unwilling listener as Malfoy said "she was born into a Muggle family, but got the letter to Hogwarts." He ran his fingers down the bookshelf and picked out a few books, putting them into his left hand. "She went on to do well here, but kept two dual lives, her Muggle existence, for her parents and sisters' benefits, where she became an author; and her wizarding one, where she was a fairly successful inventor of spells. Neither life overlapped: her parents didn't realise she was a witch, and the wizarding world in turn didn't realise she was a successful author until a few decades ago. So…"

Hermione was flabbergasted. Was he really telling the truth? She was fascinated, despite herself. "Has that happened much, in the past? I've never really come across much reference to it in the Hogwarts library." Draco continued picking out books from the literature section, seemingly at random, whilst Hermione stood there.

"It's never really of interest to pure-blood wizards, as we have nothing to do with the Muggle world. Obviously, Muggles have no idea, so I suppose the only people it's really of interest to are the Muggle-borns like yourself, who appreciate the significance" he said neutrally, flicking through some of the books he held. "And, Muggle-borns being a relatively recent addition to the wizarding world in the whole scheme of things, it won't have been documented until fairly recently. That's my guess, anyway," he said with a shrug.

Hermione found it utterly bizarre that she was having such a scholarly and balanced conversation with Draco Malfoy. She hardly knew what to say. "You're clearly quite knowledgeable on all this," she said, perhaps a little reproachfully. Knowledge was her area. It was odd being lectured by someone else.

Draco ignored her comment and sat back down on one of the bean bags, spreading out the books he had gathered on the floor. "Look, here." She sat down on the beanbag one away from him and looked at the books he was pointing to. "Here are some wizard classics, but the Muggle versions. Often they wrote two, and I've been reading some of the Muggle versions whilst I've been here – it's interesting – where there's a duel, it turns into a Muggle fight, etc, etc." He was quiet for a moment, looking through all the books.

"Have you read all these then?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, of course" he said, surprised.

"Oh." She couldn't think of anything else to say. She had never really thought about these people leading parallel lives, and found it quite mind-boggling, especially as the information was coming from a certain Draco Malfoy, alleged Muggle-hater extraordinaire.

"So this is where you've been all the time? In the library?"

Draco looked at her, his eyes suddenly challenging. "Yes. Is that a problem? Encroaching upon your territory too much?" he said, eyebrows slanted. The disinterested scholar was gone; back was the touchy Slytherin.

Hermione held her ground. "No, actually, I've been busy 'immersing myself in Muggle culture' which is far more rewarding' she said, a little snottily.

"Culture?" he said with a laugh. "Staring at Muggle pin up magazines with your friend you, mean. Don't deny it, I've seen you!" he said with a smirk. Hermione blushed. That was one time. And it was all Helen's business. "Besides, I'm getting more culture here, reading Muggle literature. There are worse things." He stood up and began putting the books back.

Hermione couldn't really think of a witty comeback. The best she could come up with was, "are you sure you're not just shunning all the daily life stuff, just because you don't understand it and don't want to make a mistake?"

His answer was surprisingly candid. Coolly putting the last book back on its top shelf, he said, "yes. I don't understand it. And I don't really see any point. We're only here for four weeks."

Hermione said with a little more enthusiasm now, "but Draco, there's so much to do! So much fun you could have! These four weeks don't matter; it's practically like a holiday!"

"I've got other stuff on my mind, Hermione." he said coldly, frowning.

"Like what, Malfoy?" she said, incredulously.

"You wouldn't understand, _Granger_" he said with a sneer. "Life's all fun and games for you, isn't it?" He threw Wuthering Heights back at her with a sharp movement, and she caught it just in time, openmouthed at this sudden change of mood. "Here" he added as an afterthought. "You won't like it. You'll hate Heathcliff. Enjoy," he said sourly, and swept from the room.


End file.
